LIBRARY 

.UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


The  family  group  of  Rose  Ann,  washerwoman. 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 

THE    GENTLEMAN   OF 
THE    PLUSH    BOOKER 


BY 
KtTTH  McENERY   STUART 

AUTHOR  OF  "SONNY,"  "HOLLY  AND  PIZEN,"  "A  GOLDEN 
WEDDING,"  "MORIAH'S  MOURNING,"  ETC. 


•BCUtb  pictures  bs 

fi&warfc  pottbast 


NEW   YORK 

THE   CENTURY   CO. 

1902 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


Copyright,  1901,  1902,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 

Published  October,  1902 


THE  DEVINNE  PRESS 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

"  The  family  group  of  Rose  Ann,  wash- 
erwoman " Frontispiece 

"  'He  co' ted  me  settin'  down  fannin'  .  .  . 
whilst  I  flung  de  hoe '  "       ....     13 

"  'Nemmin' ; .  .  .  mammy  gwine  give  her 
baby  a  nice,  cool  foot'"      ....    35 

" '  I 's  a  family  man,  sir ' » 45 

"With  a  whirl,  .  .  .  she  advanced  to  her 
husband" 71 

"  Acts  of  love,  and  not  of  labor  ".  .  .  93 
"  It  was  an  impressive  procession  "  .  .  99 
"  <  I  'm  'feard  I  ain't  got  nothin'  to  say » »  127 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 

THE  GENTLEMAN  OF 
THE  PLUSH  ROCKER 


I 

THE  picture  of  the  family  group  of 
Rose  Ann,  washerwoman,  as  gath- 
ered almost  any  day  at  her  cabin  door, 
was  a  pictorial  expression  of  the  great 
story  of  her  life— its  romance,  its  trag- 
edy, and,  fortunately  for  all  concerned, 
its  comedy. 

Rose  Ann  was,  as  already  introduced, 
and  as  she  herself  would  have  told  you, 
a  washerwoman— "not  none  o'  yo' 
fancy  laund'esses,  but  jes  a  plain 
grass-bleachin',  sun-dryin',  clair-starch- 
[3] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


in',  muscle-polishin'  washerwoman." 
Would  there  were  more  of  her  kind! 

She  was  fat,  black,  maternal;  and  as 
she  stood  among  her  piccaninnies  be- 
fore her  tubs,  in  character,  even  to  the 
turning  up  of  her  faded  skirt  from  her 
bare  feet,  it  was  gratifying  to  see  that 
she  was  alive  and  happy. 

The  group  of  children,  a  dog  or  two, 
and  a  maternal  cat,— also  in  character, 
—slept,  played,  quarreled,  or  frolicked 
about  her  feet,  and  on  the  grass-plot 
beyond  her  wash-bench.  The  smaller 
children  were  nearly  naked,  taking  the 
group  in  midsummer;  a  baby  of  less 
than  a  year,  who  disputed  a  bone  with 
a  playful  pup,  was  quite  so. 

This  much  of  the  picture  might  have 
been  duplicated,  excepting  as  to  unim- 
portant details,  at  any  one  of  a  dozen 
cabin  doors  within  a  mile  of  Rose 
Ann's.  A  note  of  apparent  discord 
M 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


comes  in  with  the  father  of  the  family, 
the  gentleman  in  starched  linen,  if  you 
please,  who,  in  an  attitude  of  elegant 
leisure,  reclined  in  the  easy-chair  at  the 
washer's  right— somewhat  apart  from 
the  group,  but  near  enough  to  his 
spouse  for  comfortable  conversation. 

This  personage— there  are  some  who 
are  always,  by  grace  of  a  certain  innate 
distinction,  "personages  "  in  any  group 
of  persons— this  personage,  then,  was, 
so  he  was  introduced,  "Mr.  Napoleon 
Jackson,  Esquire,"  and  he  was,  as  seen 
at  a  glance,  a  man  of  color,  of  leisure, 
of  family,  and  of  parts.  As  to  color, 
Napoleon,  or  'Poleon  familiarly,  was  so 
deeply  endowed  as  to  be  almost  color- 
less, which  is  to  say,  he  was  black.  He 
was  as  nearly  black,  that  is,  as  any 
man  or  crow  was  ever  known  to  be. 
The  highest  expression  of  the  pure 
African  is  by  no  means  a  forbidding 
[5] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


type.  Far  from  it.  Of  course  the 
familiar  "  types,"  which  alone  are  really 
typical,  are  of  other  sorts.  But  Napo- 
leon was  an  exception.  If  there  had 
been  any  room  for  the  suspicion,  any 
slight  deflection  of  color  admitting  a 
ray  of  doubt,  one  would  have  said,  with 
small  feeling  of  hazard,  that  he  was 
part  Indian.  But  that  was  simply  be- 
cause of  his  slender  and  great  propor- 
tions, the  straight  lines  defining  his 
supple  figure,  and  the  high  bridge  of 
his  nose,  to  which  feature  his  amiable 
face  chiefly  owed  its  dignity. 

It  takes  more  than  polished  linen, 
plush  easy-chairs,  and  muscular  relaxa- 
tion to  express  the  real  inborn  spirit  of 
repose.  It  is  true  that  the  only  creases 
in  Napoleon's  duck  trousers  were  those 
which  told  of  easy  risings  and  sittings, 
and  that  his  cuffs,  which  were  polished 
until  they  were  as  fine  as  celluloid,  gen- 
[6] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


erally  went  "all  unbroke "  back  to  Rose 
Ann's  tubs,  but  the  lordly  grace  of  the 
man  was  a  thing  apart  from  either  rai- 
ment or  incidental  setting.  That  it  was 
somewhat  heightened  in  effect  by  the 
chair  of  crimson  plush  in  which  he 
lounged  cannot  be  denied.  This  re- 
splendent article,  of  which  more  anon, 
was  of  the  pattern  known  as  the  Morris 
chair,  with  an  adjustable  back.  Rose 
Ann  called  it  by  another  name,  but  that 
belongs  further  along  in  the  story.  As 
to  the  "blooming  tree,"  perhaps  that, 
too,  can  wait.  However,  it  is  part  of 
the  composite,  and  belongs  in  the  pic- 
ture. An  old  sycamore,  dead  by  a  light- 
ning-stroke which  had  robbed  it  of  all 
but  a  single  spreading  limb  on  one  side, 
had  been  transformed  by  the  hand  of 
love— love  for  the  idle  man  beneath  it, 
not  for  the  tree— into  a  brilliant  canopy 
of  flowering  vines,  morning-  and  even- 
[7] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


ing-glories  for  each  day's  greetings  and 
farewells,  Virginia  creeper,  honeysuck- 
les, a  straggling  rose,  and  others  for 
perennial  flower  and  leaf.  In  the  height 
of  its  florescence,  as  now,  and  particu- 
larly in  the  slanting  hours  of  the  going 
and  coming  sun,  it  was  a  glory  worthy 
—well,  perhaps  worthy  of  a  better 
cause.  And  yet,  no.  Is  it  not  sufficient 
reason  for  its  being  that  it  was  in  itself 
a  gladdener  of  mortal  sight,  a  holder  of 
song  as  well  as  of  color?  For  there 
came  humming-bird  and  butterfly, 
honey-bee  and  moth  of  tawny  wings. 
And  love  lived,  too,  at  home,  snugly 
nested  in  its  tangle  of  woody  honey- 
suckle, starred  over  now  by  red  cypress 
flowers  and  shaded  with  waxen  leaves 
of  cool  Madeira.  Surely  the  canopy  was 
worth  while  for  its  own  sake,  which  is 
to  say,  for  love  and  beauty's.  Who 
would  stop  God's  rain  because  it  falleth 
as  saith  the  Scripture? 
[8] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


The  back  of  the  Morris  chair  was 
lowered  by  means  of  a  brass  rod  and  a 
series  of  notches.  About  the  hour  when 
the  morning-glories  began  to  twist  up 
their  cups,  leaving  the  blood  of  the 
cypress  stars  to  catch  the  upmoving 
sun,  Rose  Ann's  habit  was  to  slip  the 
rod  back  a  notch  or  two  behind  her  lord, 
for  this  was  his  usual  napping-time. 
Not  that  he  always  slept.  For  there 
were  mornings  when  he  seemed  to 
enjoy  whatever  he  saw  in  the  canopy 
above  his  head,  and  occasionally  he 
would  call  Rose  Ann's  attention  to  a 
tragedy  or  comedy  of  life  there  which 
might  have  been  a  reflection  of  that 
enacting  below,  though  neither  he  nor 
she  would  ever  have  discovered  it. 
He-birds  are  often  mighty  fine  gentle- 
men, if  you  please,  and  there  are  plush 
rockers  galore  in  nature's  greenery 
chambers  for  such  as  they  when  their 
pleasure  may  be  to  tilt  upon  their 
[9] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


perches  while  they  bask  in  the  adora- 
tion of  their  dutifully  sitting  mates. 
What  is  the  difference,  a  nest  or  a 
tub,  to  typify  the  conserving  partner— 
the  home-maker? 

And  some  of  these  feathered  fellows 
are,  even  as  was  Napoleon,  fine,  able- 
bodied  types.  And  many  are  song- 
birds, too,  as  was  he. 

Rose  Ann  was  a  magnetic  woman,  as 
most  thoroughly  vitalized  people  are— 
most,  but  not  all.  Some  there  be  who 
thrive  as  air-plants,  ever  luxuriant,  but 
detached,  self-contained.  But  our 
woman  was  not  of  this  class.  Rather 
was  she  of  those  who,  rooted  to  the  soil 
by  a  thousand  live  fibers,  grow,  thrive, 
blossom,  and  bloom,  not  to  speak  of 
bearing,  for  the  joy  of  all  such  as  come 
in  contact  with  them.  It  was  her  part 
of  life— life  abundant,  warm,  sweet  to 
the  possessor.  It  needed  that  God 
[10] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


should  send  a  woman  like  this  as  mate 
to  the  man  in  the  chair;  that  is,  if  he  be 
mated  at  all.  And  surely,  if  physical 
perfection  and  a  gentle  heart  count  for 
aught,  it  were  a  pity  to  have  him  wasted. 
Perhaps  it  would  better  be  said,  for  the 
sake  of  the  few  space-blind,  who  know 
not  how  to  read  between  the  lines,  that 
Napoleon  had  never  in  his  life  been 
known  to  do  any  kind  of  work— that 
the  situation,  which  has  already  been 
described  as  interpretative,  was  not  an 
incident  or  a  phase  of  his  being.  It  was 
its  very  essence. 

Such  a  life  was,  of  course,  open  to 
criticism,  and,  equally  of  course,  it  got 
it.  But  since  Rose  Ann  had,  according 
to  her  oft-declared  defense,  known  just 
what  she  was  doing  when  she  married 
him,  and  since  it  was  her  pleasure,  per- 
haps even  her  pride,  to  labor  for  her 
lord's  leisure,— in  other  words,  to  pit  her 
[11] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


tubs  against  his  chair,— and  since  there 
was  neither  lean  nor  hungry  one  he- 
tween  the  two,  and  while  there  was  joy 
in  the  song  by  which  she  washed,  as 
well  as  impetus  to  industry  in  its  stir- 
ring measure,  it  would  seem  that  criti- 
cism may  have  been  vain  and  sympathy 
wasted. 

"Well,  I  married  for  love,  an'  I  got 
it,"  she  was  wont  to  exclaim  to  such  of 
her  neighbors  as  were  indiscreet  enough 
to  challenge  her  conjugal  loyalty.  And 
she  generally  added,  often  flapping  a 
wet  garment  between  her  palms  for 
emphasis,  "  An'  Pm  happy  in  it !  " 

Then,  if  the  guest  were  of  an  insis- 
tent turn,  or  if  Rose  Ann  happened  to  be 
herself  in  a  voluble  mood,  she  would 
enter  more  deeply  into  the  subject  in 
this  wise: 

"  Of  co'se,  when  I  married  'Poleon,  I 
knowed  he  was  n't  to  say  de  'dustri- 
[12] 


'  He  co'ted  me  settin'  down  fannirC 
.     .     .     whilst  I  flung  de  hoe '.'" 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


ousest  man  in  de  worl',  an'  I  ain't  got 
no  right  to  complain.  He  did  n't  work 
whilst  he  was  co'tin9  me  an'  stop  arter  he 
got  married.  No,  sir.  He  co'ted  me 
settin'  down  fannin'  'isself  or  layin'  in 
de  clover  whilst  I  flung  de  hoe.  An'  I 
swapped  off  de  hoe  for  love  an'  duty 
arter  I  got  married,  'ca'se  a  wash-bench 
is  better  'n  a  potato-hill  to  raise  chillen 
roun'.  No,  I  know  it  ain't  none  o'  his 
fault.  He  can't  work,  'ca'se  his  mammy 
she  marked  him  so.  She  had  been  over- 
worked befo'  he  was  born,  an'  she 
marked  her  chile  for  rest." 


[15] 


II 

FT1HUS  she  bravely  exploited  the  situ- 
JL  ation  to  her  idle  guest,  Calline  Cax- 
ton,  one  afternoon,  and  the  woman 
must,  either  by  word  or  look,  have  ex- 
pressed some  disapproval  of  the  mater- 
nal prevision,  for  Rose  Ann  hastened  to 
add: 

"Yas,  I  know  a  plenty  o'  de  ole  folks 
tol'  'er  it  was  a  sin  ag'in'  de  unborn 
an'  contrary  to  de  Scriptures,  which  say 
how  man  dat  's  born  o'  'oman  is  boun' 
to  earn  'is  bread  by  de  sweat  of  'is  brow. 
But  she  'lowed  dat  she  had  sweated 
enough  for  two,  an'  she  nuver  raised  de 
mark  off  'n  'im.  No,  't  ain't  dat  'Poleon 
don't  want  to  work;  howsomever,  I 
[16] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


don't  say  he  do,  but  ef  he  did,  he 
could  n't.  I  done  seed  it  tried.  Three 
or  fo'  strokes  o'  de  hoe-handle  or  de 
rake  '11  sicken  'im  wuss  'n  a  dorg.  It 's 
a  spell  she  laid  on  'im.  Yas,  I  done 
seen  him  sicken  wid  a  workin'  tool  one 
minute,  an'  maybe  de  nex'  minute  some 
o'  de  gals  'd  come  foolin'  roun',  an'  he  'd 
ketch  'em  up  an'  dance  roun'  my  wash- 
bench  wid  double  a  hoe-motion,  an'  jes 
git  up  a'  appetite  for  'is  dinner.  It 
ain't  de  labor  dat  hurts  'im.  It 's  de 
thoughts  of  it." 

Perhaps  she  fancied  even  further  dis- 
approval in  her  guest's  eyes,  for  she 
hastily  added,  and  in  quite  another  tone: 

"  But  I  sho  does  like  to  see  'im  settin' 
so— tekin'  it  easy.  I  don't  know  what 
I  'd  do  ef  I  did  n't  have  him  to  feast  my 
eyes  on  whilst  I  'm  workin'  so  constant. 
I  tell  you,  a'  able-bodied  man  in  sight  is 
a  heap  o'  consolation." 
[17] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


To  this  her  visitor  replied  with  a  sniff 
that  it  would  "pleg  her  all  but  to  death 
ef  she  had  to  keep  her  ole  man  in  her 
eye  all  day." 

To  which  Rose  Ann  cleverly  retorted: 

"I  don't  wonder!" 

Whereupon  the  offended  Calline, 
coolly  remarking  that  it  "  took  a  heap 
o'  kind  o'  people  to  mek  a  world," 
strolled  loftily  away. 

"So  long!  Call  ag'in,  sister,"  cried 
the  jovial  Rose  Ann,  fairly  chuckling 
while  she  raised  a  wet  garment  for  in- 
spection, and  in  a  moment  she  added  to 
herself: 

"I  don't  blame  you,  sister.  I  sho 
don't.  It  'd  pleg  me,  too,  to  haf  to  look 
at  a  cross-eyed,  swiveled-up  little 
some'h'n'  other  lak  Br'er  Clay  Caxton. 
It  sho  would— an'  all  his  brick-layin' 
dirt  on  'im,  too." 

She  even  dropped  her  work  for  a 
[18] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


moment,  and  watching  the  slim  red 
figure  down  the  road,  she  laughed  again. 

"  Yas,  indeedy.  Ef  I  was  tied  to  a  lit- 
tle laborin'  thing  lak  Br'er  Caxton,  I 
reckon  I  'd  be  put  to  it,  an'  haf  to  tek 
comfort  inTukky-red  Mother-Hubbards, 
too." 

Then,  bending  to  her  task,  she  began 
to  sing: 

Oh,  love  's  my  meat,  oh,  love  's  my  drink, 

Oh,  love  7s  my  daily  fare ; 
Asleep,  awake,  forgit  or  think, 
I  breathes  it  in  the  air ! 
Oh,  love, 
/hear 

You  huminin'  'mongs'  de  bees ! 
Oh,  love, 
/hear 
You  singin'  in  de  trees ! 

By  the  time  she  had  repeated  the 
chorus  through  a  first  suds  and  was 
ready  to  change  tubs,  the  recent  guest 
had  turned  out  of  sight,  and  Rose  Ann 
glanced  with  a  smile  from  the  point  of 
[19] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


her  departure  to  Napoleon,  who  smiled 
back  at  her  from  the  third  angle  of  his 
repose,  as  he  remarked,  as  if  simply  to 
fill  felicitously  the  wash-board's  pause: 

"I  see  sperits  is  thick  roun'  heah  dis 
mornin',  honey." 

"Yas,"  replied  Rose  Ann;  "I  taken 
notice  how  Towser  been  snappin'  at  de 
air,  an'  all  three  teethers  seein'  sperits 
in  dey  sleep.  Huccome  you  taken  notice 
to  de  sperits,  'Poly?  " 

"I  felt  one  bresh  by  me  jes  now,  lak 
a  mighty  win',— purty  nigh  friz  my  ear- 
rim,— but  it  nuver  shuk  a  leaf  on  de 
tree." 

"  You  don't  say! "  She  looked  up  into 
the  tree  indicated.  "  It  ain't  chilled  you 
none,  I  hope?  'Ca'se  dat  's  a  sperit- 
win',  sho.  Any  mortal  win'  'd  be  boun' 
to  mek  de  trees  trimble.  I  'm  glad  to 
see  dey  good  sperits,  dough.  None  o' 
de  chillen  ain't  whimpered— jes  smiled 
[20] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


an'  laughed  in  dey  dreams.  An'  Towser, 
too,  he  jes  s'luted  'em  frien'ly  in  de 
sunlight.  He  knows  dey  good  sperits. 
Ricollec'  how  he  barked  an'  tuk  on  time 
de  patteroles  got  atter  you?  " 

"  Yas,  I  'member.  But  dey  warn't  no 
patteroles,  honey.  You  heah  me.  Dey 
warn't  nothin'  but  sperits.  Dat  's  my 
b'lief.  You  ricollec',  we  nuver  seen 
nothin'— jes  heerd  a  voice  out  'n  de 
darkness.  Dat 's  huccome  Towser  seen 
'em  so  clair.  He  don't  pay  no  'tention 
to  folks  in  de  flesh  less'n  dey  rattle  de 
gate-latch." 

"Maybe  you  right,  'Poly.  But  yit  V 
still  I  can't  git  it  out  'n  my  min'  dat  dat 
voice  sounded  mighty  familius.  I  don't 
want  to  say  whose  voice  it  sounded  lak, 
but  it  sho  did  strak  my  yeah  wid  a 
mighty  familius  soun'.  It  cert'n'y  did. 
Seem  lak  it  had  long-time-ago  in  it,  too, 
an'  I  can't  forgit  it." 
[21] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


Napoleon  was  more  than  languidly 
interested,  for  he  even  raised  his  body 
as  he  asked: 

"Tell  yo'  ole  man  whose  voice  it  fa- 
vored, honey.  Huccome  you  nuver  is 
spoke  about  dis  befo'?  Was  it  de  voice 
o'  de  livin'  or  de  dead?  " 

His  wife  wiped  her  hands  on  her 
apron  and  rested  them  upon  her  hips 
while  she  turned  to  her  husband,  but 
before  speaking  she  swept  the  road  with 
her  eyes  as  if,  in  spite  of  her  assurance, 
she  felt  a  vague  fear.  Then  she  said 
slowly: 

"Hit  'minded  me  bofe  o'  de  livin'  an9 
de  dead.  Lak  a  dead  voice  in  a  livin' 
mouf— " 

Then  turning  suddenly  and  laughing 
as  if  she  might  have  said  more  than  she 
intended,  she  exclaimed: 

"Listen  at  me  prophesyin'  an'  talkin' 
'bout  sperits,  lak  as  ef  I  was  'f eard ! " 
[22] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


Then,  resuming  her  work,  she  began 
slowly  and  in  a  wavering  minor  key  to 
sing: 

Oh,  heaben  's  mighty  close, — 

Yas,  close,  yas,  close,— 
Ef  you  got  a  yeah  to  listen 

To  de  hos',  to  de  hos', 
Ef  you  got  a  yeah  to  listen  to  de  sto-ry  ! 

Oh,  heaben  's  mighty  nigh, — 

Yas,  nigh,  yas,  nigh,— 
Ef  you  got  a'  eye  for  visions 

In  de  sky,  in  de  sky, 
Ef  you  got  a7  eye  for  visions  o'  de  glo-ry ! 

As  she  sang  she  had  gradually  warmed 
to  the  words,  repeating  the  last  couplet 
several  times,  and  when  she  finally 
stopped,  she  turned  to  the  dog,  who  was 
again  whining,  while  he  lifted  his  nose 
into  the  shaft  of  sunlight  above  his  body. 
"I  tell  yer,  pardner,"  she  began,  still 
keeping  her  eyes  upon  the  dog,  although 
addressing  her  husband,  "  I  tell  yer,  my 
b'lief  is  dat  Gord  meks  it  up  to  a  dorg." 
[23] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


"What  yer  say,  sugar?  Mek  up 
what?" 

"Why,  I  say  I  b'lieve  Gord  meks  it 
up  to  a  beas'— for  bein'  a  beas'.  Us 
humans  we  stan'  up  an'  sing  about 
'seein'  visions  in  de  sky,'  an'  Towser, 
heah,  he  don't  say  nothin',  but  he  sees 
'em.  An'  de  puny  chillen,  too,  dey  see 
mo'  'n  dey  '11  ever  see  when  dey  git 
uppish  an'  strong.  Yas,  bless  de  Lord! 
I  b'lieve  he  meks  up  a  heap  o'  things  to 
de  dumb  an'  little.  Even  us  blackskins 
we  see  mo'  'n  white  folks  sees.  Why, 
plenty  o'  folks  passes  by  heah  an'  looks 
at  you  an'  looks  at  me  an'  de  chillen  an' 
pities  me.  Even  dat  yaller  triflin' 
Calline  Caxton,  did  n't  she  call  on  her 
white  blood  to  pity  me  an'  cas'  slurs  at 
you?  She  sho  did,  an'  she  so  triflin'  de 
win'  won't  have  her,  an'  not  a  chile  to 
lay  'er  out  when  she  dies,  an'  she  mar- 
ried to  ole  slim-shanks,  bow-laig  Clay. 
[24] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


Good  Lord!  lemme  git  along  wid  dis 
renchin'!  Deze  starched  clo'es  is  boun' 
to  dry  wid  de  even-glories  to-day,  sho." 
The  quick  strokes  by  which  she  had 
so  cleverly  "hit  off"  her  neighbors 
amused  Napoleon  tremendously,  for  he 
fairly  roared  with  laughter.  And  thus 
restored  to  better  spirits,  he  waited  only 
for  the  measure  of  her  wash-board  to 
start  up  lustily: 

Love  made  St.  Peter  walk  de  sea, 

It  built  ole  Noay's  ark, 
It  lit  de  stars  for  you  an'  me 

To  squench  de  blindin'  dark. 

His  wife  did  not  join  with  him  at  first, 
but  when  he  had  reached  the  chorus, 
she  came  in  jubilantly: 

Oh,  love, 

I  hear 
You  hummin*  'mongs'  de  bees ! 

Oh,  love, 

I  hear 
You  singin'  in  de  trees ! 

[25] 


Ill 

OP  course,  as  Rose  Ann  was  a  whole- 
some woman  and  no  fool,  one 
might  have  known  that  the  formal  con- 
sent which  she  had  so  cheerfully  given 
to  what  some  of  her  critics  were  pleased 
to  call  her  "jug-handle  love"— all  on 
one  side— must  have  had  a  definite  ex- 
cuse. Not  that  it  would  do  to  admit 
the  conditions  of  her  life's  romance  as 
testimony  in  a  case  involving  the  ques- 
tion of  any  woman's  sanity— or  any 
man's,  for  that  matter;  still,  it  is  grati- 
fying when  love  falls  into  line  with  rea- 
son and  common  sense. 

Although  Napoleon   was  a  man  of 
leisure,— that  is  to  say,  of  declared,  even 
[26] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


professional  leisure,— he  is  seen  to  have 
been  a  person  of  health  and  physical  per- 
fection, and  so  he  took  his  ease  as  a  live 
man  takes  it,  in  conscious  enjoyment, 
and  with  such  variations  as  pleased  his 
fancy.  As  Rose  Ann  expressed  it, 
"When  his  mammy  marked  him  for 
rest,  she  marked  him  for  pleasure  in  it." 
There  were  hazy  "fish-bitin"'  days, 
for  instance,  when  the  plush  chair  sat 
vacant  indoors,  and  milord  betook  him- 
self to  the  bayou  behind  the  Cherokee 
hedge.  At  other  times,  discerning  by 
nature's  intimations  when  the  hickories 
were  full  of  squirrels  or  the  marshes 
of  snipe,  the  fields  alive  with  par- 
tridges, or  the  bayou  itself  swarming 
with  ducks,  in  pursuit  of  pleasure  he 
perforce  became  provider  and  suffered 
no  resultant  illness,  his  mind  being  that 
of  the  sportsman  alone,  untaxed  with 
thought  of  provision. 
[27] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


On  these  occasions  he  generally  took 
several  of  the  children  with  him,  and  of 
course  the  dogs,  often  allowing  the 
former  to  draw  straws  as  to  which 
might  go  and  which  must  remain  at 
home  to  cook  dinner;  for  no  matter  how 
alluring  the  sport,  Napoleon  was  never 
beguiled  into  ignoring  what  he  called 
his  "in'ard  dinner-bell,"  which  rang 
more  regularly  than  many  of  the  bayou 
clocks.  Nor  would  he,  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, carry  a  dinner-pail. 

"  Stale  picnic  victuals  "  he  declared  to 
be  "good  enough  for  them  that  liked 
'em  ";  and  if  his  spouse  occasionally  ex- 
hibited a  shade  of  disappointment,— for 
it  is  a  relief  to  have  one's  best  beloved 
get  out  and  be  gone  once  in  a  while,— 
he  would  add,  "No,  honey;  no  woods 
dinners  an'  divo'ces  for  me!"  Where- 
upon the  good  woman  would  beam  with 
affection  revived,  and  would  even  per- 
[28] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


haps  remind  him  to  "be  shore  to  sen' 
home  any  luck  in  time  to  be  cooked,  ef 
he  craved  it  for  supper."  And,  indeed, 
she  could  promise  this  without  incurring 
serious  interruption,  for  there  was 
scarce  a  featherling  out  of  the  nest— 
otherwise  the  cradle— who  could  not, 
with  the  slightest  instruction  from  over 
the  maternal  shoulder,  get  up  a  dinner 
the  aroma  of  which  had  more  than 
once,  when  the  wind  was  tantalizing, 
hurried  the  field-hands  home  at  noon, 
even  though,  perforce,  they  were  obliged 
to  go  in  an  opposite  direction  and  to 
pots  far  less  savory.  The  outdoor  fire 
which  boiled  her  clothes  would  turn  out 
from  its  live  coals  both  bread  and  pota- 
toes done  to  a  turn  behind  her  back, 
even  when  the  oldest  one  at  home 
chanced  to  be  the  little  Rosanne  while 
she  was  only  "  gwine  on  ten."  And  the 
greens-pot  with  its  endless  resources, 
[29] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


even  to  its  supreme  product  of  dump- 
lings, was  ably  managed  without  so 
much  as  a  peep  under  its  lid  by  the 
mother. 

Even  "  last-minute  luck,"  generally  a 
simple  matter  of  "br'ilin'  or  fryin',"  was 
easily  accomplished  by  "the  under- 
growth," the  four-year-old  twins  often 
running  races  at  skinning  squirrels  or 
picking  ducks.  Indeed,  Rose  Ann  often 
remarked  playfully, "  Sence  my  ole  man 
is  marked  for  rest,  I  sho  is  markin'  my 
chillen  for  work."  And  she  would  some- 
times add:  "All  'cep'n'  de  baby.  I  'm 
'feard  he  's  his  daddy's  chile;  an'  ef  he 
is,  I  pray  de  Lord  to  fire  his  soul  to 
preach." 

It  had  once  been  her  hope  to  turn 
Napoleon's  life  into  account  in  this  way, 
seeing  that  the  cloth  is  popularly  sym- 
bolic of  ease,  but  he  promptly  put  her 
to  shame  and  to  fear  by  answering  that 
[30] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


"ef  he  ever  entered  de  Lord's  vineyard 
as  a  laborer,  he  'd  look  for  his  days  to 
be  short." 

Even  in  his  workless  life,  however, 
there  were  slight  ways  besides  the  in- 
cidental help  of  rod  and  gun  in  which 
he  oiled  the  domestic  wheels,  even 
though  he  never  supplied  the  power 
which  drove  them.  For  one  thing,  he 
generally  delivered  the  finished  wash 
for  his  wife,  this  being  not  labor  per  se, 
he  explained,  but  "on'y  'stributin9  of 
labor."  When  the  basket  was  so  heavy 
as  to  be  burdensome,  Rose  Ann  would 
send  one  of  the  children  with  him  to 
"tote  it."  Napoleon  liked  these  trips. 
He  liked,  in  the  first  place,  "  the  feel  of 
money  in  his  hand,"  and  he  liked  the 
excuse  to  walk  down  the  village  street 
and  to  pass  the  stores.  There  was  an 
undefined  something  which  forbade  his 
joining  the  laboring-men  who  met  in 
[31] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


one  or  two  of  the  commoner  shops  on 
Saturday  afternoons.  It  was  in  part, 
perhaps,  a  sensitiveness  to  their  esti- 
mate of  him;  this,  with  the  fear  of  spor- 
tive references  to  his  mode  of  life  from 
the  older  men.  And,  too,  he  was  in  a 
manner  ashamed  of  his  good  dressing. 
It  was  a  slight  thing  for  a  man  to  re- 
mark that  "Brother  Napoleon  seemed 
to  keep  dressed  for  chu'ch  all  de  week," 
but  it  teased  him. 

Napoleon  never  spent  any  of  the 
money  which  he  collected  in  trust  for 
his  wife.  In  the  beginning  he  had  tried 
it,  but  it  had  not  worked,  although  de- 
fended by  the  fetching  argument  that 
he  and  she  were  "all  one."  Rose  Ann 
was  firm  about  a  few  things,  and  she 
had  claimed  and  held  the  laborer's  right 
to  disburse  his  earnings.  Still,  seeing 
the  humility  with  which  he  accepted  her 
decree,  she  was  always  eager  to  spend 
[32] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


as  much  as  she  might  for  his  personal 
indulgence.  For  instance,  when  he 
once  remarked  as  he  handed  her  the 
money,  "I  see  a  kag  o'  fine  pickled 
pig-foots  fresh  opened  at  Lawton's, 
honey,  an'  dey  sho  did  mek  my  mouf 
water,"  although  she  replied  dryly,  as 
she  tied  the  coins  tightly  in  her  hand- 
kerchief, "I  be  boun'  for  you  seein' 
some'h'n'  t'  eat,"  in  a  few  minutes  she 
called  one  of  the  boys  aside,  and  taking 
a  dime  from  her  pocket,  she  whispered: 

"  Daddy  crave  a  pig-foot,  baby.  Run 
along  up  to  Lawton's  an'  git  him  a 
couple."  Then  hesitating,  she  took 
out  another  nickel:  "Better  git  three, 
baby.  I  '11  eat  one  wid  'im  for  com- 
pany." 

By  this  time  the  word  "pig-foot "  had 

been  caught  by  one  of  the  small  fry, 

who  set  up  such  a  yowl  that  Rose  Ann 

was  obliged    to  hurry  the  messenger 

[33] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


away  to  stop  the  cry;  but  before  he  had 
reached  the  turn  of  the  road,  it  seemed 
best  for  the  family  peace  to  call  him 
back,  and  when  he  started  off  again  his 
mouth  was  so  full  of  small  coins  that 
he  was  afraid  to  run,  and  his  mother 
shouted  after  him: 

"  Look  out,  an'  don't  swaller  yo'  foot 
'fo' you  git  it!" 

And  as  she  took  up  the  baby  for  a 
little  coddling,  she  mumbled  to  it  lov- 
ingly: "Nemmin';  when  buddy  comes, 
mammy  gwine  give  her  baby  a  nice, 
cool  foot  fresh  out  'n  de  pickle.  Hit 's 
mighty  tasty  to  cut  feverin'  toofs  on, 
yas  it  is." 

And  so,  in  a  few  minutes,  did  she, 
leaving  the  "  teether  "  happily  rolling  in 
the  clover  with  his  tidbit,  while  she  went 
to  drop  the  remaining  eleven  into  the 
greens-pot. 

[34] 


Newtmin' ;    .    ,    .    mammy  gwine  give 
her  baby  a  nice,  cool  foot.'  " 


IV 

Oh,  love  's  my  meat,  oh,  love  's  my  drink  — 

SO  she  sang  as  she  stirred  the  coals. 
If  the  course  of  true  love  did  not 
always  run  smooth  with  the  generous 
liver  and  dispenser  of  life  Rose  Ann,  it 
certainly  ran  with  many  a  joyous  ripple 
and  song  in  these  sunny  days.  If  there 
were  occasionally  rocks  in  its  river-bed, 
making  passage  difficult,  they  also 
served  to  froth  the  waters  and  to  send 
them  along  to  a  merrier  tune  when 
once  they  were  passed.  And  there 
were  rocks  in  its  course— rocks  so  for- 
midable that  at  times  they  almost 
threatened  to  wreck  the  entire  little 
3  [37] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


fleet  commanded  by  the  brave  admiral 
Rose  Ann. 

Once  in  a  great  while  there  were  cold 
days  on  Palmetto  Bayou,  and  sometimes 
there  were  not  even  second-hand  shoes 
for  the  little  feet  which  were  yet  pink 
in  the  soles  and  unhardened  to  the 
frosty  ground. 

And  there  were  occasional  crises 
when  bacon  and  meal  and  molasses 
money  had  to  go  for  quinine— when  the 
mornings  were  foggy  and  the  reed-grass 
and  calamus  wet  along  the  bayou's  brim. 
Napoleon  knew  certain  indigenous  rem- 
edies for  the  common  enemy  of  resi- 
dents along  low  waterways,  and  when 
the  pressure  of  need  was  not  upon  him, 
he  would  sometimes  gather  great 
"bo'quets"  of  pennyroyal  and  mullen 
and  peppergrass  and  spearmint  and 
boneset  and  camomile,  in  their  sea- 
sons, and  Rose  Ann  would  brew  love's 
[38] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


offerings  into  proved  specifics,  which 
she  would  sometimes  supplement  with 
protective  charms,  such,  for  instance, 
as  the  tiny  cotton  bag  which  the  baby 
wore  on  a  string  about  his  neck  when 
he  was  written  down  as  naked.  These 
simply  medicated  mascots  were  in  no 
wise  related  to  the  familiar  "  hoodoos  " 
or  "cunjers"  of  which  much  has  been 
written.  If,  in  addition  to  the  asaf etida 
gum,  the  few  cloves,  and  the  bit  of  gar- 
lic which  composed  most  of  them,  the 
mother  added  a  leaf  of  rosemary  for 
luck,  or  any  tiny  trinket  of  mystic  sug- 
gestion, it  was  only  the  expression  of 
individual  superstition. 

As  for  Rose,  she  always  put  into  her 
teethers'  charms  a  baby  tooth  natu- 
rally shed,  and  if  she  could  find  one  on 
a  five-year-old's  pallet,  dropped  in  his 
sleep,  so  much  the  better.  This  rep- 
resented nature's  operation  at  its  best, 
[39] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


and  was  reserved  for  future  use.  It 
was  like  the  shedding  of  a  rose-leaf  or 
the  falling  of  an  apple. 

It  seems  strange  that  fire-wood 
should  ever  have  been  scarce  in  a  cabin 
set  on  the  edge  of  an  oak  and  pine 
forest,  but,  as  Rose  Ann  more  than  once 
lamented,  "  trees  stan'  ready  for  de  sac- 
erfice,  but  dey  don't  bow  down  an'  walk 
into  yo'  fireplace.  Dey  has  to  be 
chopped  into  service." 

Now,  while  Napoleon  occasionally 
felled  a  great  tree  worthy  of  his  muscle, 
for  simple  love  of  conquest,  or  perhaps 
for  the  sharpening  of  his  appetite, 
which,  however,  never  seemed  in  jeop- 
ardy, he  could  not  consistently  cut  the 
same  into  lengths  for  use.  He  would 
have  done  it,  no  doubt,— indeed,  he  said 
as  much,— but  for  consideration  for  his 
busy  spouse,  who  had  "enough  to  do 
widout  havin'  a  sick  man  on  her  hands." 
[40] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


It  was  well  that  Rose  Ann  was  a 
manager,  as  otherwise  there  might  have 
been  real  suffering  in  the  canopy  cabin. 
Without  any  consciousness  of  her  own 
scope,  however,  she  displayed  a  faculty 
in  the  manipulation  of  her  affairs  that 
would  have  been  remarkable  were  it  less 
common  in  her  class.  There  were 
many  colored  households  along  the 
bayou  and  beyond  v/hich  were  not  even 
dignified  by  a  father  of  the  chair,  and 
which  were  wholly  provided  for,  as  was 
Rose  Ann's,  by  a  dusky  "madonna  of 
the  tubs."  Of  course  much  of  their 
provender  was,  as  hers,  "second-hand," 
a  fact  which  assured  better  quality 
than  they  could  have  bought. 

Even  Napoleon's  clothes  had  to  be 
taken  up  or  let  out  before  they  lent 
themselves  fully  to  his  expression. 

The  clothes  question  in  the  South 
seems  never  a  serious  one  to  the  negro 
[41] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


laundress,  who  is  counted  as  natural 
heir  to  discarded  garments.  And,  of 
course,  there  are  ways  of  managing, 
under  pressure,  to'  borrow  from  the 
wash  certain  hidden  accessories,  as 
stockings,  for  instance,  which  go  to  the 
support  of  one's  self-respect. 

But  Rose  Ann  prided  herself  upon 
doing  nothing  of  this  sort.  Napoleon's 
clothes,  when  he  wore  them,  were  al- 
ways his  own,  and  if  the  little  folk  went 
to  church  in  nature's  own  stockings,  the 
same  might  be  said  of  them:  they  were 
wearing  their  own. 

Taking  it  all  in  all,  the  family  of  Rose 
Ann  and  Napoleon  was  as  happy  as  the 
best  of  their  kind.  The  father  had 
never  been  heard  to  speak  an  unkind 
word  to  chick  or  child,  so  boasted  his 
fond  mate;  and,  certainly,  if  filial  devo- 
tion goes  to  show  anything,  he  must 
have  been  an  exceptional  parent.  His 
[42] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


bed  of  pine-boughs  upon  the  ground  was 
always  kept  fresh  by  the  little  ones  who 
slept  with  him  through  many  a  swel- 
tering summer  afternoon  when  he 
wearied  of  the  warmth  and  limitations 
of  his  plush  rocker.  Here  it  was,  by  a 
ludicrous  chance,  that  he  lay  surrounded 
by  the  other  six  of  seven  sleepers  when 
he  was  roused  by  the  census-taker,  to 
whom  he  gave  his  memorable  answer 
to  the  question  as  to  his  occupation: 

"  I 's  a  family  man,  sir." 

And  so  it  stands  in  the  book  to- 
day. 

If  Rose  Ann  had  not  been  blinded  by 
her  own  devotion,  she  must  sometimes 
have  been  a  little  jealous  of  the  chil- 
dren's adoration  of  their  daddy,  which 
under  pressure  was  even  exclusive.  For 
instance,  a  single  fish  was  always 
"daddy's  fish,"  the  first  and  last  blos- 
som on  the  vine  were  his. 
[43] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


But  Rose  Ann  was  superior  to  small 
things.  Indeed,  her  own  love  was  such 
that,  when  there  was  no  one  else  at 
hand  in  whom  to  confide,  she  would 
sometimes  talk  to  her  ten-year-old 
daughter  of  her  happiness. 

"Wait  on  yo'  daddy  good,  baby,"  she 
would  say,  "'ca'se  ef  Gord  was  to  tek 
him  away,  you  would  n't  nuver  git  an- 
other lak  him.  Yo'  ole  mammy  'd  haf 
to  tek  up  wid  some  po'  ole  laborin'-man 
to  be  stepdaddy  to  you-all."  At  which 
the  little  girl  would  protest  that  she 
"would  n't  have  no  other  daddy,"  and 
Rose  Ann  would  aver  that  there  would 
be  nothing  else  for  her  to  do  but  to 
marry  again,  "wid  all  dese  growin' 
chillen  to  suppo't,"  for  she  "couldn't 
stan'  her  groun'  at  de  wash-bench,  day 
in  an'  day  out,  wid  no  glorification  of 
love  to  consolate  her  heart."  This  evi- 
dence of  her  realization  that,  under  any 
[44] 


I ' s  a  family  man,  sir. 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


possible  conditions,  she  would  pretty 
surely  have  to  continue  breadwinner, 
was  not  without  its  pathos,  albeit  one 
must  smile  at  her  frank  measure  of 
herself. 


[47] 


BUT  Rose  Ann  was  by  no  means 
lacking  in  friends  in  whom  to  con- 
fide her  life's  "satisfactions."  Her 
habit  of  "countin'  noses  an'  den  drap- 
pin'  in  a  big  extry  po'tion  for  de  pot " 
was  a  hospitable  one  well  known  to  her 
neighbors,  and  it  was  one  that  was 
particularly  grateful  to  a  certain  octo- 
genarian black  woman,  Granny  Sho- 
shone,  who  was  ever  a  welcome  guest, 
for  she  had  known  Napoleon's  mother 
both  "befo'  he  was  thought  about  an' 
endurin'  his  markin'  days,"  and  was  in 
consequence  more  tolerant  of  his  way 
of  life  than  were  some  of  his  neighbors. 
Granny  had  only  two  teeth  to  her 
[48] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


head,  and  as  they  were  prominent  in 
her  lower  jaw,  they  had  a  way  of  clench- 
ing her  utterances  by  seeming  to  hold 
them  fast  against  the  tip  of  her  nose 
until  she  was  done  with  them.  Indeed, 
all  her  emphatic  statements  became 
thus  more  or  less  oracular  in  effect  in 
the  weird  and  fearless  expression  of 
these  twin  witnesses,  which,  through 
lack  of  opposition,  had  long  been  given 
over  to  expression  alone. 

"Yas,  indeedy,"  she  would  exclaim, 
in  extenuation  of  Napoleon's  disability, 
"you  can't  go  behin'  de  beginnin'!" 

Granny  was  in  the  shop  one  particu- 
lar day  when  pigs'  feet  were  bought, 
and  although  she  was  on  her  way  to 
visit  "a  sufferin'  sister"  in  another 
direction,  she  suddenly  decided  to  put 
it  off  and  to  go  instead  to  see  whether 
the  splinter  had  worked  itself  out  of 
Rose  Ann's  toddler's  foot  or  not. 
[49] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


As  granny  arrived  after  the  dinner 
was  "po'tioned  out,"  there  was  no  gath- 
ering together  for  the  meal.  Napoleon 
was  served  in  a  heaping  tin  pan  upon 
his  lap  in  the  chair  near  which  his  wife 
expected  to  join  him  with  her  own  pan 
when  she  should  have  filled  the  chil- 
dren's plates,  which  they  always  be- 
stowed upon  the  grass  where  they  chose. 
But  the  arrival  of  her  guest,  who  was 
not  long  in  fixing  herself  on  the  ground 
beside  the  pot,  of  course  located  the 
hostess.  Granny  wanted  perfect  free- 
dom of  speech  with  its  lubricant,  and 
when  Napoleon  was  present,  she  was 
one  popular  subject  short. 

"Yas,  indeedy,"  she  repeated  as  soon 
as  she  had  done  declining  and  then  tak- 
ing everything  offered— "yas,  indeedy, 
talkin'  'bout  'Poleon,  I  was  studyin'  las' 
night  'bout  'is  mammy,  ole  Jane,  an' 
de  way  she  marked  her  baby.  I  ric- 
[50] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


ollec'  she  was  mighty  sorry  he  warn't  a 
gal,  too,  when  he  come,  'ca'se  she  say 
she  sho  did  crave  to  subs'tute  one  rock- 
in'-cheer  'oman  in  her  place  befo'  she 
died.  But  when  de  chile  come  a  boy, 
she  'lowed  she  did  n't  keer.  She  say 
ef  he  growed  up  as  purty  as  he  come, 
he  could  hoodoo  some  'oman  to  work 
for  him." 

Rose  Ann  started  at  this. 

"I  ain't  workin'  for  'Poleon  for  no 
hoodoo,"  she  retorted; "  I  works  for  him 
'ca'se  I  loves  him." 

To  which  granny  answered  with  a 
high,  cracked  laugh:  "Love  ain't  no 
mo'  'n  a  hoodoo,  nohow." 

Teeth  against  nose,  so  she  clenched 
her  epigram. 

And  at  this   playful    generalization 

Rose  Ann  was  pleased  to  laugh  with  her. 

"  I  sho  b'lieves  you  's  right  in  dat,"  she 

even  granted.    "  Love  is  a  hoodoo,  sho. 

[51] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


Ef  it  warn't,  I  could  n't  nuver  see  what 
some  folks  sees  in  de  ones  dey  marry. 
Dar  's  ole  bow-laig,  stammerin'  Sam 
Shaw,  stutters  so  he  calls  his  own  wife 
'  Sis'  Sal,'  an'  she  a  sinner.  I  sho  can't 
see  what  Sal  seen  in  him." 

"Love  's  a  riddle,  an'  it  's  a  lucky 
'oman  dat  can  answer  her  own,"  mum- 
bled the  oracle,  letting  the  drollery  pass 
without  emphasis  over  a  bit  of  corn- 
dumpling. 

"Is  you  mean  to  tell  me  dat  Sal  loves 
dat  lean  guinea  nigger,  granny?  " 

"Be  still  tel  yo'  elders  git  done,  gal. 
/  say  what  I  say!  An'  I  say  dat  's  jes 
what  Sal  puzzles  over  'bout  you— how 
you  ben'  yo'  back  over  de  tubs  for 
'Poleon-" 

"  Dey  may  wonder! "  interrupted  Rose 

Ann.     "  But  dat  don't  hender  'em  f 'om 

tryin'  to  git  him  away  f'om  me.     Every 

time  Sal  got  a  minute  to  spare  she  's 

[52] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


filabusterin'  up  an'  down  de  road  befo' 
Toleon's  chair,  an'  me  standin'  right 
heah— brazen  devil  dat  she  is.  But  he 
don't  pay  no  'tention.  I  know  he  cuts 
a  fine  figure  in  dat  pattern-rocker  in 
de  mids'  o'  de  flowers  de  chillen  done 
planted  roun'  it.  But  even  he  don't 
bother  'isse'f.  Ef  he  wanted  to  start 
out  'oman-killer,  he  would  n't  practise 
on  deze  Palmetter  Bayou  gals,  I  tell  you 
dat." 

She  had  talked  so  excitedly  that  sev- 
eral of  granny's  witticisms  were  lost. 
But  she  probably  caught  some  of  them, 
for  when  her  flurry  had  spent  itself,  she 
added,  evidently  in  reply: 

"  Dat  pattern-rocker?  Dat 's  a  prize 
rocker.  I  got  it  for  'im  on  soap-papers. 
Dis  heah  ( Rench-me-quick  Soap '  is  got 
cow-pons  to  it,  an'  fifty  of  'em  '11  draw  a 
sewin'-machine  an'  sixty  '11  git  a  pat- 
tern-rocker, any  color  plush  you  choose. 
[53] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


I  picked  red  'ca'se  red  hit  goes  good  wid 
black." 

"It  sho  do  become  'im,"  said  the  old 
woman,  glancing  toward  the  chair,  in 
which  by  this  time  the  man  was  nodding. 

"  Yas,  it  sho  do,"  added  his  wife,  "an* 
dem  evenin'-glories,  dey  sets  'im  off, 
too.  Dey  so  white  an'  him  so  black. 
Ole  Mis'  she  gimme  de  seeds,  an'  de 
chillen,  dey  planted  an'  waters  'em. 
Dey  sho  does  love  dey  daddy." 

"Well,"  snapped  the  oracle,  "half  de 
time  life  ain't  nothin'  but  a  see-saw, 
nohow— Love  on  one  een'  an'  Labor  on 
de  yether." 

Rose  Ann  was  not  quite  clever  enough 
to  grasp  this,  and  yet  she  felt  that,  in 
some  intangible  way,  it  was  not  quite  to 
her  taste,  so  she  put  it  aside  by  a  mild 
denial: 

"I  got  a  plenty  to  do  widout  see- 
sawin'." 

[54] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


"  Hush,  gal ! "  laughed  granny. "  Hush, 
I  say.  You  keeps  sech  a'  even  balumps 
you  don'  know  you  on  it.  But  you 
lucky  so  long  as  Love  don't  jump  off. 
I  sho  would  be  proud  to  see  you  swap 
een's  for  a  while,  dough.  So  you  got 
dat  cheer  wid  cow-pons  f  om  de  soap- 
papers,  is  you?" 

"  Yas,  an'  'Poleon  sho  was  proud  an' 
happy  when  he  see  me  pass  de  sewin'- 
machine  notch  an'  save  up  to  de  rocker. 
He  sho  was.  I  'lowed  it  would  pleasure 
my  sight  mo'  to  see  him  swingin'  in  red 
plush  'n  what  it  would  to  stitch  up  de 
few  duck  breeches  he  'd  set  in  endurin' 
de  summer." 

"  So  it  do,  chile,  so  it  do."  There  was 
real  sympathy  in  the  old  hag's  voice, 
even  when  presently  she  added:  "You 
know  his  mammy  she  hoed  an'  planted 
an'  picked  cotton  right  heah  on  dis  spot 
whar  'Poleon  sets  an'  teks  de  breeze, 
[55] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


an'  I  often  wonders  ef  she  kin  look 
down,  or  up,— Jane  did  n't  die  in  grace, 
po'  soul,— I  often  wonders  ef  she  kin  see 
'im  tekin'  de  rest  she  pervided  for  'im." 

"Me,  too,"  said  the  wife.  "I  sho 
hopes  de  Lord  lets  her  have  de  cornso- 
lation  o'  seein'  him.  An'  I  trus'  she  kin 
see  my  happiness,  too— mine  an'  de 
chillen's.  Jes  look  at  'em!  One  ridin' 
'is  foot,  an'  two  on  tiptoe  puttin'  dem 
glories  in  his  haid.  I  don't  'low  'em  to 
climb  up  on  de  plush." 

"You  kin  be  sho  o'  one  thing,"  said 
granny.  "Ef  Jane  is  free  to  go  whar 
she  choose,  she  hovers  whar  she  kin 
see  'im.  She  was  a  devilish  'oman,  some 
ways." 

"Yas,  she  was  devilish.  I  '11  say  it, 
ef  she  is  de  chillen's  heabenly  gran'- 
mammy.  I  'bleege  to  locate  'er  in 
heaben,  'ca'se  I  don't  b'lieve  Gord  would 
work  her  de  way  she  was  worked  an' 
[56] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


burn  her,  too.  But  she  sho  was  devilish 
when  she  'd  git  mad.  She  marked  her 
chile  for  rest,  an'  den  she  'd  beat  'im 
when  he  would  n't  work.  Yas,  ma'am. 
She  had  de  po'  chile  purty  nigh  ren- 
dered in  two.  She  was  too  high-tem- 
p'rate  for  me." 

"She  was  wuss  'n  high-temp'rate, 
Jane  was.  She  was  col'-blooded  devil- 
ish, dat  what.  I  ricollec'  once 't  she  got 
tired  hoein'  an'  follerin'  de  plow,  an' 
she  worked  a  spell  on  her  marster,  so  's 
he  'd  see  her  all  swiveled  up  an'  puny, 
an'  eve'y  time  de  overseer  'd  put  her  in 
de  fiel',  she  'd  mek  some  excuse  to  pass 
befo'  her  marster,  an'  he  'd  give  orders 
to  have  dat  sick  nigger  tooken  out  'n  de 
fiel',  an'  he  'd  sen'  good  liquor  down  to 
her  cabin  an'  special  rations.  Well,  she 
kep'  dat  up  th'ough  two  craps.  Den, 
bless  goodness,  her  ole  marster  failed, 
an'  de  overseer  he  bought  'im  out,  an' 
[57] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


I  tell  you  he  got  even  wid  ole  Sis' 
Shirker.  She  was  a  stavin'  worker  when 
she  'd  work  anyhow,  an'  she  done  a  big 
part  todes  makin'  ole  Yankee  Sabbath- 
breakin'  Eben  Dowds  rich,  she  sho  did. 
It  was  whilst  she  was  stavin'  for  him 
dat  she  took  thought  to  mark  her  chile 
for  dat  plush  rocker.  She  sho  done  it. 
Ef  anybody  doubts  de  trufe,  let  'im  jes 
look  at  de  way  he  fits  it.  I  tell  you  his 
mammy  she  measured  him  for  it,  in 
wrath,  wid  a  hoe  in  'er  han'." 

Napoleon  seemed  to  be  sound  asleep 
now,  and  the  wife  looked  at  him  fondly 
as  she  said: 

"I  often  taken  notice  to  de  way  dat 
plush  don't  faze  him.  He  sho  do  be- 
come it." 

"Seen    as    dat,"    mumbled   granny, 

"hit  >s  got  to  be  born  in  de  grain.    I 

know  ef  I  was  to  set  in  plush,  I  'd  hoi' 

my  weight  up  in  spite  o'  myse'f,  so 

[58] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


'feard  I  'd  crumple  it.  I  'd  be  as  bad  as 
yaller  M'ria  Mumford  when  she  bought 
dat  velveteen  skirt  out'er  lottery  money. 
She  say  she  nuver  'spe'unced  no  plea- 
sure in  it,  'ca'se  she  got  tired  stan'- 
in'  up;  an'  I  axed  her  why  she  nuver 
set  down,  an'  she  'lowed  she  could  n't. 
She  say  sometimes,  when  she  'd  be  so 
tired  she  'd  pretty  nigh  fall  in  her 
tracks,  she  'd  try  to  set  down,  but  her 
knees  would  n't  give  way." 

"  Polks  like  dat  ain't  got  no  business 
wid  finery." 

"No;  dat  's  what  I  'm  sayin'.  Ef 
I  'lowed  a  frock  was  finer  'n  I  was,  I 
would  n't  put  it  on.  Ricollec'  when  I 
was  a  young  dancin'  gal  I  had  a  linsey- 
woolsey  frock  once-t,— a  fine  plaid  wid 
a  yaller  thread  crisscross  over  it, —an' 
Ole  Mis'  she  gi'e  me  some  o'  dis  heah 
lace  quillin'  for  de  neck  an'  sleeves,  an' 
when  it  was  basted  in  an'  laid  out  on  my 
[59] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


bed  of  a  Sunday  it  looked  so  fine  I 
started  to  fol'  it  up  an'  put  it  away,  an' 
den  I  stopped  an'  looked  it  square  in  de 
eye,  an'  commenced  to  put  it  on;  but  de 
lace  it  ketched  my  eye  ag'in,  an'  I  see  it 
was  boun'  to  override  me,  an'  you  know 
what  I  done?  I  snatched  it  off  an' 
crumpled  it  up,  an'  pitched  it  on  de  flo' 
an'  tromped  on  it,  tel  I  had  it  whupped. 
Den  I  put  it  on  my  back  an'  started  out, 
an'  it  nuver  browbeat  me  no  mo'." 

«Umh!  you  don't  say!" 

"Yas;  but  I  got  a  lace  collar  dat  I  'm 
skeered  to  wear  yit,  an'  I  had  it  fo'teen 
years.  Ole  Mis'  gi'en  it  to  me.  I  could 
wear  de  collar  all  right,  ef  it  did  n't 
have  de  faint  smell  o'  Ole  Mis's  ward- 
robe. I  ain't  got  de  face  to  wear  it— 
not  wid  her  threatenin'  to  come  in  de 
flesh  an'  ketch  me;  howsomever  she  in 
her  grave  seven  years  past,  one  sniff  of 
dat  collar  brings  her  right  befo'  me  tel 
[60] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


I  kin  all  but  tech  her  han'.  Sometimes 
when  she  begins  to  fade  away,  I  '11 
smell  it  hard  an'  try  to  fetch  her  back 
ag'in,  but  she  won't  come.  I  has  to  put 
it  away  ag'in  'fo'  it  '11  git  back  de  power 
o'  de  resurrection.  No,  some  days  when 
I  gits  lonesome  I  teks  it  out  an'  shets 
my  eyes,  an'  I  heah  de  rustle  o'  de  black 
silk  dress,  an'  I  know  she  's  comin',  an' 
I  seems  to  feel  'er  by  me;  but  I  ain't 
nuver  had  de  face  to  so  much  as  lay  it 
roun'  my  black  neck— not  now." 

"Pass  it  along  to  me,"  laughed  the 
jocund  Rose  Ann  again.  "Dat  '11  jes 
suit  my  true-love's  taste  down  to  the 
groun'." 

"Suit  nothin'!  No,  honey.  I  gwine 
meet  Ole  Mis'  in  heaben  wid  dat  collar. 
It 's  been  layin'  wid  my  grave-clo'es  tel 
it 's  yaller,  but  time  de  draf '  blows  along 
de  golden  streets  f'om  de  openin'  o' 
de  gate  when  I  slips  in,  an'  Ole  Mis' 
[61] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


ketches  a  breaf  o'  her  ole  wardrobe 
'fumeries,  I  looks  for  her  to  come  for- 
'ard  to  meet  me,  bless  de  Lord,  so  I 
does!" 

Teeth  against  nose-tip  notwithstand- 
ing, there  was  pathos  rather  than  cari- 
cature in  the  old  face  granny  raised  to 
the  sky  as  she  spoke. 

Almost  any  emotional  negro— and 
Rose  Ann  was  emotional— would  have 
caught  somewhat  of  the  fervor  of  her 
guest,  but  her  life's  connections  were  too 
strongly  physical,  too  material,  and  too 
vital  for  enjoyment  of  any  projection 
beyond  the  realm  of  sense.  Her  spirit- 
ual part  was  strong  enough,  but  in  her 
lusty  mid-life  how  could  it  find  other 
than  sensuous  expression?  Such  as 
she,  perhaps,  granny  had  been  thirty 
years  before.  In  thirty  years  more, 
when  time's  ravages  might  establish 
new  facial  relations,  she  might  come  to 
[62] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


enjoy  such  contemplation,  but  now, 
while  the  telling  characteristic  of  her 
figure  was  the  frank  approach  of  bust 
to  chin,  she  withdrew  from  the  out- 
look. 

"I  'clare,  you  gimme  de  col'  shivers, 
granny."  She  shuddered.  Then  sud- 
denly recovering  herself,  she  chuckled: 
"Love  is  too  sweet  to  me  down  heah 
below  yit."  While  she  spoke  a  bee 
darted  between  her  face  and  granny's, 
and  as  she  dodged  it  she  laughed: 
"Look  out!  Don't  git  stung  wid  Mr. 
Yaller-belly,  dusty  wid  de  corn-tassels 
an'  pumpkin-flowers.  Git  stung  by  him 
now,  an'  you  '11  go  a-hongerin'  for  love, 
sho." 

She  had  risen  from  her  place  on  the 
ground,  and  as  she  doubled  over  her 
tub  now,  still  half  laughing,  she  began 
to  sing,  mischievously,  but  somewhat 
under  her  breath,  as  her  lord  still  slept: 
[63] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


Oh,  love  an'  me  goes  hand  in  hand, 
When  I  got  a  hand  to  spare ! 

A  loveless  life  's  a  sinkin'  sand, 
A  drowndin'  soul's  despair. 

Although  she  had  begun  low,  her 
notes  had  gradually  swelled  until  the 
last  words,  "A  drowndin'  soul's  de- 
spair," came  out  full  and  fine.  And  as 
she  struck  up  lightly  into  the  chorus, 

Oh,  love, 
/see 
You  buzzin'  'mongs',  etc., 

there  suddenly  rose  from  the  chair  a 
fine,  strong  tenor.  This  was  a  signal  of 
freedom  to  the  children.  "  Daddy  was 
awake." 


[64] 


VI 

WHEN  the  two  had  finished  the 
chorus  and  started  in  for  a  new 
stanza,— granny  laughing  at  the  duet, 
—little  Rosanne  lifted  her  single  skirt 
and,  joining  in  the  singing,  struck  out 
in  cake-walk  fashion.  Boy  Wash,  the 
twelve-year-old,  seeing  her,  hurried 
from  behind  his  father's  chair,  and 
swung  himself  into  the  arena,— the  open 
bounded  by  cabin,  wash-bench,  and 
chair,— the  child  Rosanne  following; and 
when  they  had  reached  the  center,  they 
began  posing  and  dancing,  passing  and 
repassing  each  other,  perfectly  uncon- 
scious, reckless  in  mirth,  innocent  as 
life  unthinking. 

It  was  the  great  mid-hour  of  a  mid- 
[65] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


summer  afternoon.  The  throbbing  air, 
teeming  with  life-secrets,  was  aglow 
with  brilliant-winged  things,  sun-mad 
and  pollen-drunk.  Even  the  flowering 
tree  seemed  delirious  with  all  its  motley 
bloods  afire. 

Granny  said  afterward  that  it  was 
"de  smell  o'  chiny-blossoms "  that 
came  to  her  in  the  wake  of  the  bee 
that  *  waked  up  her  ole  foots,"  and  per- 
haps it  was.  What  could  be  more  rem- 
iniscent of  youth  and  love  in  Louisiana 
than  the  odor  of  china-blossoms  on  a 
bayou-bank? 

If  the  children  had  seemed  to  dance 
finely  before  granny  set  out,  and  there 
were  three  dancing  when  she  began, 
they  were  soon  bestirring  themselves  to 
keep  up  with  her. 

As  she  strode  nimbly  forward,  skirts 
lifted,  body  braced  for  action,  she  gave 
her  head  a  single  little  lift.  It  was 
[66] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


slight,  but  it  was  peremptory  and  aimed 
straight  at  the  chair  where  sat  and  sang 
the  man  Napoleon. 

Now,  if  Napoleon  was  anything  in 
his  own  estimation,  he  was  "  a  puffec' 
genterman,"  to  whom  a  lady's  invita- 
tion was  as  a  queen's  behest.  As  he 
rose  to  meet  the  old  dancer  who,  not- 
withstanding many  coquettish  with- 
drawals, was  confidently  approaching 
him,  he  might  have  been  king  of  the 
Cannibal  Islands,  or  anything  you  please 
in  black  royalty.  He  even  lowered  his 
tone  somewhat  in  deference  to  his  part- 
ner as  he  gave  her  his  hand.  It  was 
not  long  before  the  three  children  on 
the  outskirts  began  to  show  great  de- 
light in  the  combination,  the  twins  be- 
ginning simply  to  jump  up  and  down, 
and  the  nude  baby  on  the  shawl  keep- 
ing time  with  his  body  as  he  sat.  Lit- 
tle granny,  as  lithe  and  slight  as  a  witch 
[67] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


of  the  woods,  eager,  alert,  ever  in  the 
initiative,  almost  but  never  quite  antici- 
pating a  measure;  great  long-limbed, 
loose-jointed  Napoleon,  leisurely  strid- 
ing, ever  threatening  to  come  in  late, 
but  always  sailing  in  on  time;  occasional 
humorous  pedal  syncopations  when  for 
a  critical  moment  failure  seemed  im- 
minent, but  was  deftly  averted  in  change 
of  time.  Oh,  it  was  great  dancing,  even 
though  the  dancers  knew  only  that  they 
were  having  fun. 

At  first,  engaged  with  granny's  ca- 
price, Rose  Ann  simply  dropped  upon  the 
wash-bench,  roaring  with  laughter;  but 
she  was  soon  singing  again,  as  loud  as 
the  loudest,  beating  time  with  her  open 
palms  upon  her  fat  knees.  But  this  was 
progressive,  and  the  buzzing  wings 
swung  so  low,  and  the  air  trembled  so 
with  its  message  of  life  and  love,  she 
could  not  hold  out  long. 
[68] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


No  one  knew  just  when  she  started 
out.  Her  movement  was  so  stealthy,  so 
noiseless  and  feline,  that  when  she  had 
given  her  heavy  body  a  single  upward 
toss  as  if  to  cast  out  its  weight,  it 
seemed  to  settle  a  few  inehes  from  the 
ground,  where  it  began  to  spin,  and 
presently  it  had  taken  direction  in  a 
ring  on  the  rim  of  the  dancing-space— 
only  one  motion,  but  that  in  perfect 
rhythm  with  the  song. 

Round  and  round  she  spun,  round  and 
round,  until  it  seemed  that  she  must 
fall  from  sheer  dizziness.  Then,  sud- 
denly, with  the  quick  signal  which  the 
dancer  knows,  she  beckoned  to  granny 
to  take  her  place,  and  with  a  whirl,  all 
in  tune,  right  hand  high  in  air,  she  ad- 
vanced to  her  husband.  He  was  quick 
to  match  her  pose,  but  before  taking  her 
hand  he  saluted  her  with  a  low  bow, 
which  she  humorously  answered  with  a 
[69] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


dipping  curtsy,  skirt  drawn  back  with 
left  hand,  the  right  still  high,  inviting 
his.  But  at  a  touch  of  his  fingers  she 
coquettishly  spurned  the  hand,  deftly 
diving  under  one  arm  and  then  the 
other  and  back  again,  virtually  turning 
the  dance  into  a  chase  in  which  her 
pursuer  finally  confronted  her,  when 
she  prettily  surrendered  by  offering  him 
both  hands  thrown  to  the  left.  This  was 
an  invitation.  He  seized  them,  locked 
arms  with  her,  and  together  they 
"  moseyed  down  the  center."  Then 
switching  away,  they  "split  partners," 
each  taking  one  child  and  another  in 
turn.  It  made  no  difference  which  way 
she  led— for  Rose  Ann  was  easily  leader 
from  the  first  step:  the  rest  felt  and 
followed  her  every  impulse  as  if  drilled 
in  her  whimsical  art. 

For  a  few  moments  after  granny  set 
sail  on  the  border,  it  seemed  as  if  she 
[70] 


With  a  whirl,    .    .    .    she  advanced  to  her  husband." 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


had  lost  all  sense  of  time.  Even  her 
thin,  wind-filled  skirt  added  to  the  sug- 
gestion of  a  spinning  top,  and  she  was 
as  rapt  as  a  dervish.  It  was  only  when 
the  singing  began  to  diminish  in  time 
that  there  came  into  her  body  a  fine 
swaying  movement,  a  tipping  easily 
from  side  to  side,  farther  and  farther, 
until  with  the  lengthening  diminuendo 
she  dipped  almost  to  the  falling-point, 
as  a  loaded  doll,  which  threatens,  but 
never  topples. 

This  "  slowing  up  "  of  the  dance  was 
the  great  moment,  and  when  it  became 
plain  that  the  old  woman's  eyes  were 
closed,  there  was  a  second  of  suspense 
as  to  how  or  where  she  would  stop. 
Only  a  second,  though,  for  just  when 
falling  seemed  imminent,  she  whirled 
oft0  at  a  tangent,  precisely  as  a  top  when 
it  is  spent,  and  fell  safely  into  the  plush 
chair.  For  a  moment  she  sat  here  with 
•  [73] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


arms  still  extended,  eyes  closed,  spell- 
bound. When  finally  she  let  her  arms 
fall  and  opened  her  eyes,  she  ex- 
claimed: 

"Gord!  but  it  was  sweet!  I  done 
lived  it  all  over— 'way  back  to  my  chil- 
lenhood!" 

But  this  was  only  a  brief  emotion.  In 
a  few  minutes  she  had  risen  and,  with 
scarce  a  stagger,  stepped  over  to  the 
well,  filled  a  gourd  from  the  drawn 
bucket  there,  and  begun  to  drink.  Drop 
by  drop  she  took  the  cool  water,  lifting 
her  little  head  for  each  swallow,  as  a 
chicken  drinks. 

When  she  had  finished,  the  dipper 
was  in  requisition  by  the  rest  of  the 
dancers,  all  of  whom  were  dripping  wet, 
and  as  she  handed  it  to  Napoleon,  she 
laughed: 

"Well,  ole  man,  it  sho  is  a  pity  you 
could  n't  git  some  o'  yo'  steam-power 
[74] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


'tached  to  a  workin'-machine;  you  'd  git 
rich." 

She  started  off,  but  stopped  suddenly, 
looking  up  into  the  trees.  "Look-a 
heah,  baby! "  She  had  hurried  to  Rose 
Ann.  "  Dey  's  sperits  roun'  heah  to-day, 
chile.  Look  at  dat  leaf  shekin'  in  a 
still  tree,  an'  not  a  bird  nigh  it.  Dey 's 
sperits  heah,  sho.  Dat  sprig  o'  leaves 
shek  jes  lak  a  warnin'  han'." 

"I  'spec'  dat  's  yo'  gyardi'n  sperit 
spyin'  on  you  a-dancin'!"  laughed  Rose 
Ann.  "An'  hit  's  gwine  'po't  you  to 
headquarters,  an'  have  you  turned 
out  o'  de  chu'ch." 

The  words  were  lightly  spoken,  but 
granny  answered  warmly:  "Dey  kin 
'po't  on  me  much  as  dey  like.  I  danced 
on  de  sweet  grass,— to  chillen's  singin', 
an'  not  to  no  devilish  string-fiddle,— an' 
it  taken  me  'way  back  to  de  innocence 
o'  my  chillenhood,  an'  dey  warn't  no  sin 
[75] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


on  de  groun'.  But  look,  chillen,  for 
Gord's  sake!  Look  at  dat  pair  o' 
breeches  on  de  line  filled  wid  win',  an' 
dey  ain't  a  breath  blowin'.  Lemme  git 
out  o'  dis  neighborhood!  I  sho  b'lieve 
dey  's  a  ha'nt  arter  somebody." 

Napoleon  and  Rose  Ann  laughed  with 
the  children  at  the  ludicrous  appearance 
of  the  trousers  dancing  on  the  line;  but 
they  exchanged  glances,  and  when 
granny  had  gone,  the  man  said: 

"I  don't  like  dat  sign,  honey.  Hit 's 
a  man's  shape.  No  sperit  did  n't  come 
an'  fill  up  dem  breeches  for  nothin'." 

He  was  pretty  serious,  but  Rose  Ann 
laughed. 

"  Well,"  she  said  as  she  went  back  to 
her  tub,  "hit 's  a  man-message,  jes  as 
you  say,  ef  it  's  anything,  an'  so  I  '11 
leave  you  to  meet  it,  man  to  man.  Dis 
tub  's  a-callin'  me."  And  she  began  to 
scrub  away. 

[76] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


"  Maybe  hit 's  de  sperit  o'  de  dance," 
Napoleon  mumbled.  "  Maybe  we  turned 
him  loose  befo'  he  got  done,  an'  he  jes 
jumped  into  de  breeches  to  ease 
down." 


[77] 


VII 

IT  seems  probable  that  in  the  hum- 
drum routine  of  life,  in  the  wear 
and  tear  of  strenuous  struggle,  and  the 
disillusionizing  effect  of  day-in-and- 
day-out  familiarity  with  its  object,  Rose 
Ann  might  have  lost  a  realizing  sense 
of  her  happy  romance  but  for  the  chal- 
lenge of  public  opinion  which  required 
that  her  life  should  be  a  perpetual  de- 
fense. 

Her  song  of  the  tub  was  perhaps  as 
often  one  of  bravado,  inspired  by  the 
sight  of  a  passer-by,  as  of  inward  re- 
joicing. But,  of  course,  she  could  not 
know  this.  She  realized  only  the  occa- 
sional hints  of  the  women  and  the  jests 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


of  the  men  over  "  King  Napoleon  an'  his 
throne,"  and  if  these  were  straws,  they 
at  least  showed  the  way  of  the  wind. 
Yes,  and  there  had  been  that  midnight 
call  of  the  "patterole,"— if  patrol  it  was, 
—when  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door, 
and  a  voice  out  of  the  darkness  warned 
the  master  of  the  house  that  unless  he 
were  seen  to  contribute  to  his  family's 
support  "it  would  call  again." 

That  was  all,  but  it  had  sent  the  man 
of  leisure  out  hunting  and  fishing  pretty 
regularly  for  an  entire  season.  But 
after  a  while  it  had  been  forgotten,  or 
if  not  forgotten,  it  was  remembered  only 
as  a  bad  dream.  And  now  two  years 
had  passed. 

Husband  and  wife  had  not  spoken  of 
the  incident  for  more  than  a  year  until 
Rose  Ann  referred  to  it.  It  was  not  one 
of  her  favorite  topics.  Neither  was  it 
his.  Both  would  have  been  quite  willing 
[TO] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


to  forget  it  utterly,  and  they  thought 
they  had  virtually  done  so  until  sug- 
gestive things  began  happening  to  some 
of  their  neighbors. 

That  is  to  say,  several  delinquents— 
white  men  all,  so  far— had  been  called 
out  at  night,  and  not  only  warned, 
but  punished.  For  instance,  there 
was  "old  man  Sloven  Sousley"  (who 
was  not  an  old  man  at  all,  but  who 
had  grandchildren  and  a  bald  head  at 
thirty-eight),  who  had  been  taken  by 
a  body  of  maskers  and  carried  to  the 
edge  of  the  mill-pond,  made  to  disrobe, 
and  thrown  into  the  water.  When  he 
swam  out,  the  crowd  scrubbed  him  in 
turn  with  long-handled  brooms  dipped 
in  soft  soap,  "shaved  "  him  with  a  pair 
of  shears,  and  then  made  him  wash  his 
own  clothes  and  put  them  on  wet— all 
by  the  light  of  the  moon.  This  done, 
they  "invited  "  him  to  swallow  a  cup  of 
*  [80] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


whisky  and  quinine,  drinking  his  health 
in  imaginary  glasses  as  it  went  down. 
Then,  courteously  assuring  him  that 
they  would  be  happy  to  repeat  the  per- 
formance as  soon  as  he  needed  another 
bath,  they  moved  back  and  let  him  go 
home,  each  man  of  the  line  doffing  his 
hat  to  him  politely  as  he  passed. 

Then  there  was  the  case  of  Tom 
Timbrel  and  Joe  Squires.  Both  these 
men  were  known  to  abuse  their  wives, 
and  their  punishment  was  simply  to 
cowhide  each  other  in  turn,  the  whip- 
per  calling  his  victim  by  the  name 
of  his  own  wife  as  he  laid  on  blows, 
the  "regulators"  looking  on  and  ap- 
plauding. 

It  is  true  these  instances  were  differ- 
ent from  Napoleon's,  and  yet— well,  it 
made  him  uncomfortable  to  know  that 
regulators  were  abroad  in  the  night. 
Even  while  he  tried  to  convince  himself 
[81] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


that  his  previous  visitant  had  been  a 
spirit,  he  knew  better. 

Spirits  had  warned  him  then  of  com- 
ing evil.  Spirits  do  not  bring  warning 
of  other  spirits.  And  now  they  were 
manifesting  themselves  again.  Coin- 
cident with  the  work  of  the  regulators 
were  "  signs  and  wonders  "  almost  daily 
discerned.  There  is  an  old  plantation 
saying,  "Seek  coon-tracks,  find  coon- 
tracks."  Rose  Ann  repeated  this  to  her 
husband  one  night  when  he  kept  insist- 
ing that  it  was  a  "warnin'  sperit" 
which  blew  the  wind  down  the  chimney. 

"Seek  coon-tracks,  fin'  coon-tracks; 
seek  sperits,  fin'  sperits,"  she  laughed. 
But  while  she  spoke  she  stirred  the  fire 
and  opened  the  door  behind  her  to 
"draw  'em  off  ag'in— casen  dey  should 
be  sperits." 

This  anxiety,  vaguely  felt  for  some 
days,  took  sudden  shape  when  granny 
[82] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


spoke.  The  "man-sperit"  dancing  on 
the  line  fairly  seemed  to  mock  him,  not 
only  during  the  brief  moment  of  its 
manifestation,  but  in  the  night  when 
Napoleon  tried  to  sleep  and  could  not. 
Even  granny,  unsuspicious,  with  no- 
thing to  fear,  had  plainly  discerned  it; 
and  as  no  one  had  been  told  of  the  mid- 
night visitor,  of  course  she  could  not 
suspect  its  import. 

It  is  only  the  swing  of  a  pendulum 
from  one  extreme  to  the  other.  No 
doubt  the  reckless  enjoyment  of  the 
dance  intensified  the  foreboding  which 
followed  it,  on  its  very  heel. 

It  is  well  when  the  time  is  short  be- 
tween dread  and  its  realization,  if  evil 
must  come. 

So,  when  Napoleon  was  wakened,  by 

a  loud  rapping,  from  the  sound  sleep 

which  followed  a  sleepless  night  in  that 

darkest  and  longest  hour  just  before 

[83] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


day,  although  he  shook  as  with  an  ague, 
he  felt  a  sense  of  relief.  Despite  the 
fact  that  Rose  Ann  had  laughed  at  his 
fears,  he  saw,  when  he  had  lighted  a 
candle,  that  she  had  slept  in  her  dress. 
He  saw  only  this,  for  something  in  the 
crack  of  the  door  as  soon  as  it  was 
opened  put  the  candle  out,  and  before 
the  man  knew  what  was  happening,  a 
paper  was  thrust  into  his  hand,  and 
there  was  a  sound  of  retreating  foot- 
steps. 

The  door  was  closed  with  a  bang  and 
locked  with  trembling  fingers,  and  al- 
though both  husband  and  wife  were 
curious  to  see  what  had  been  given 
them,  they  feared  to  make  a  light,  and 
sat  before  a  waning  fire,  not  daring  to 
start  a  blaze  until  the  sun  rose. 

Napoleon  could  read  a  little,  or, 
rather,  he  could  spell,  and  as  the  docu- 
ment which  had  been  u  served  upon 
[84] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


him "  was  done  in  printed  letters,  he 
made  out  most  of  its  words  and  realized 
their  legal  form,  although  he  did  not 
grasp  their  full  import.  Evidently  the 
composition  was  the  work  of  a  wag,  for 
it  read  about  like  this: 

Notice 
To  MB.  NAPOLEON  JACKSON,  ESQ.,  D.G.L. 

(Doggone  Loafer): 

You  are  hereby  summoned  by  the  Midnight 
Ministers  of  Mercy  to  appear  before  that 
body  in  the  county  court-house  at  the  mid- 
night hour  of  high  moon  on  the  august  night 
of  the  8th  of  August,  18 — ,  to  answer  to  the 
charge  of  vagrancy  in  the  first  degree,  un- 
warranted luxury  in  the  second  degree,  and 
general  moral  debility  in  all  the  degrees 
known  to  common  law. 

(Signed)        M.  M.  ofM. 
(Midnight  Ministers  of  Mercy), 
per  Cat's-paw. 


[85] 


VIII 

T7K)R  the  entire  morning  Napoleon 
J-  puzzled  over  this  document,  and  he 
was  just  decided  to  take  it  over  to  the 
minister  of  Zion's  Chapel  and  have  him 
decipher  it  when  that  dignitary  chanced 
to  drop  in  for  a  pastoral  visit.  Even 
he  found  some  spelling  to  do  before  he 
could  venture  an  interpretation,  and  he 
declared  that  he  was  "jest  a  little  rusty 
on  his  Latin,"  and  would  have  to  take 
the  paper  home  and  "consult  wid  his 
f  ureign  dictionary,"  which  he  must  have 
done,  for  he  returned  in  an  hour  to  say 
that,  so  far  as  he  could  make  out,  Napo- 
leon was  a  prisoner  of  law  under  a 
triple  charge,  and  that  he  was  open  to 
[86] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


three  degrees  of  legal  punishment, 
"less'n  he  could  clair  hisse'f."  These 
were,  he  was  informed, "  imprisonment, 
hangin',  or  electrocutionin',  an'  maybe 
all  three." 

The  truth  was,  the  Rev.  Solomon 
Byers  had  unwittingly  taken  the  paper 
to  its  writer,  who  had  given  him  as 
sensational  an  interpretation  as  his 
wits  could  find  on  the  instant. 

It  was,  on  the  face  of  it,  a  grave  mat- 
ter. Napoleon  and  Rose  Ann  had  real- 
ized that  from  the  first,  and  the  woman 
was  considerably  disturbed  by  the  time 
fixed,  which  was  the  night  of  the  day  to 
follow.  A  thing  of  this  sort  needs  not 
only  preparation,  but  time  to  know  how 
to  prepare.  However,  her  spiritual  ad- 
viser, seeing  that  she  was  troubled,  was 
prompt  to  turn  legal  adviser  as  well. 

"In  any  case  o'  de  law,"  he  told  her 
kindly, "  de  prisoner  is  intitled  to  defend 
[87] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


hisse'f,  so,  my  sister,  ef  I  was  you,  I 
would  git  witnesses  an'  tek  my  whole 
family  into  de  co't.  I  s'picion  dat  de 
intire  trouble  is  on  de  'count  o'  dat  prize 
rockin'-cheer.  You  know  jealousy  is 
evil-eyed  an'  green,  so  de  Book  say,  an' 
dat  red  plush  hit  ketches  it.  Jealousy 
travels  dis  road  eve'y  day,  an'  ef  you  got 
speritual  vision  you  can  see  him  walkin' 
arm  in  arm  wid  all  yo'  frien's,  whis- 
perin'  an'  p'intin'.  So  outside  witnesses 
dey  won't  do  him  much  good.  Ef  you 
got  air  ole  frien'  wha'  knowed  his 
mammy,  an'  '11  testerfy  for  him,  fetch 
him  along,  but  you  an'  de  chillen  you  's 
boun'  to  be  his  chief  witnesses,  an'  of 
co'se  I  '11  stan'  by  'im  close-t  as  I  kin, 
but  I  can't  speak  much  wid  dat  rocker 
for  my  tex',  less'n  I  preach  ag'in'  it. 
So  better  lemme  he'p  you  on  de  Q.  T." 
Rose  Ann  listened  with  keen  atten- 
tion to  all  he  had  to  say,  but  while  it 
[88] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


was  helpful,  it  did  not  satisfy.  When 
it  came  to  standing  before  a  court,  she 
wanted  some  one  to  represent  her— her 
and  "  him."  She  wanted  a  white  man, 
a  lawyer.  There  was  only  one  in  town 
whom  she  felt  committed  to  her  in 
friendship,  and  that  was  a  young  at- 
torney, Martin  Caruthers,  son  of  her 
former  owners.  Her  mother  had  been 
the  Caruthers'  cook  in  the  old  days,  and 
she  and  Martin  had  played  together  as 
children.  Above  everything  she  wanted 
him  to  be  there  and  to  "speak  for  her," 
and  yet— 

She  had  hardly  owned  to  herself 
whose  voice  she  had  recognized  in  the 
midnight  warning  of  two  years  before. 
She  had  not  confessed  it.  Mart  was  his 
father's  son  in  manner,  voice,  person, 
all,  and  when  Rose  Ann  had  said  to  her 
husband  that  the  warning  from  the  dark 
was  "lak  a  dead  voice  in  a  livin'  mouf," 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


she  meant  it.  But  she  never  told  even 
Napoleon  what  her  fear  was.  It  was 
too  sore. 

When  she  suggested  his  name  now  to 
Solomon,  he  hesitated.  When  Caru- 
thers  had  "expounded"  the  paper  to 
him,  he  had  not  seemed  particularly 
friendly  to  the  accused.  However,  if 
Rose  Ann  could  enlist  him,  so  much 
the  better.  So  he  advised  her  to  try  it. 

The  woman  was  never  slow  to  action, 
and  in  an  hour  after  her  conference 
with  Solomon  she  was  dressed  in  her 
best  French  calico  with  plaid  tignon  and 
white  apron,— for  she  was  a  negro  of  the 
old  school,— and  was  trying  to  find 
Martin  Caruthers.  When  she  called  at 
his  residence,  he  had  "just  gone  down 
the  street,"  and  on  the  street  she  found 
that  he  had  "but  that  moment  stepped 
over  to  the  house."  In  his  office  it  was 
the  same  sort  of  story;  and  as  the  day 
[90] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


was  passing,  and  she  had  much  to  do, 
she  was  obliged  to  give  up  the  search. 
Besides  the  outside  details  there  was 
extra  tub-duty  at  home,  and  in  a  double 
sense,  to  prepare  her  family  for  reputa- 
ble public  appearance.  Every  self-re- 
specting darky  mother,  who  is  not  so 
poor  as  to  be  beyond  all  rule  of  dress 
proprieties,  sees  to  it  that  each  chick 
and  child  of  hers  shall  have  in  reserve 
a  white  frock— against  the  vicissitudes 
of  life  or  death.  Even  though  there 
might  not  be  shoes  to  go  around,  there 
was  never  a  time  when  Rose  Ann  could 
not,  with  a  little  time,  turn  her  entire 
flock  out  in  white,  and  certainly  in  this 
crucial  experience  she  would  not  fail. 
The  "trial"  was  to  be  in  the  night,  it 
was  true,  but  she  had  heard  of  midnight 
sessions  when  the  court  was  full,  and 
the  township  had  only  recently  put 
electric  lights  into  the  court.  It  would 
[91] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


not  only  be  like  day,  but  a  dazzling 
day. 

It  was  nearly  sunrise  when,  having 
stood  the  last  of  the  little  fluted  gar- 
ments alone  upon  the  floor,  she  threw 
herself  across  her  bed  as  she  was,  too 
tired  to  take  off  her  frock,  and  slept 
there  until  daybreak.  And  be  it  said  to 
his  credit,  Napoleon  did  not  close  his 
eyes  until  she  had  done  her  work.  Wide 
awake  he  lay,  even  talking  of  other 
things,  and  doing  his  best  to  divert  her 
troubled  mind.  He  really  wished  to  get 
up  and  turn  the  fluting-machine  for  her; 
indeed,  he  even  suggested  it:  but  she 
answered  that  "  now  was  no  time  to  git 
his  blood  pizened  wid  labor,"  and  as  he 
knew  he  should  need  all  his  strength 
for  the  conflict,  he  lay  still. 

But  on  the  night  following  it  was  he 
whose  pleasure  it  was  carefully  to  braid 
the  tight  plaits  which  decorated  the 
[92] 


Acts  of  love,  and  not  of  labor." 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


pate  of  the  maid,  Rosanne.  He  it  was 
who  bathed  the  little  ones,  who  "but- 
toned up  the  backs,"  and  tied  careful 
"ribbin  bows"  here  and  there  for  the 
whole  six;  he  who  drilled  them  in  "man- 
nerly behavior"  in  court.  Indeed,  he 
had  always  performed  most  of  these 
personal  services,  which  were,  so  he 
generously  distinguished  them,  "acts 
of  love,  and  not  of  labor." 

Rose  Ann  had  put  the  children  to  bed 
early  in  the  evening,  and  when  she 
waked  them,  she  had  made  ready  a 
hearty  "breakfast,"  giving  all,  even  to 
the  baby,  sips  of  coffee  to  insure  their 
keeping  awake. 


[95] 


IX 

IT  was  an  impressive  procession  which 
passed  into  the  court-room.  Napo- 
leon, carrying  the  baby  upon  one  arm 
and  leading  another  by  the  hand,  led  the 
way,  followed  by  the  rest  in  order  of 
size,  two  by  two.  All  were  dressed  in 
white,  excepting  Rose  Ann  and  old 
Granny  Shoshone,  who  brought  up  the 
rear  in  French  calicoes,  neckerchiefs, 
and  aprons.  Napoleon  had  protested 
mildly  against  the  white  duck  for  him- 
self, but  Rose  Ann  would  have  no  other. 
White  was  the  color  of  innocence,  she 
argued,  and  so  white  it  was. 

Although  the  trial  was  supposed  to 
be  held  in  "secret  session,"  we  have 
[96] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


seen  that  Rose  Ann  was  prepared  for  an 
audience,  and  perhaps  she  was  even  a 
little  disappointed  to  find  a  dimly  lighted 
court  and  empty  seats.  This  she  per- 
ceived from  the  vestibule  door,  which 
commanded  a  view  through  the  long 
hall  into  the  court-room  beyond.  It 
frightened  her  as  the  expected  audience 
would  not  have  done.  She  felt  unsup- 
ported, deserted.  To  stand  before  a 
court  of  inquiry  backed  by  a  crowd  of 
her  townsfolk  to  whom  her  presence 
would  be  an  appeal  was  one  thing;  to 
be  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  a  merciless 
court  was  another. 

But  she  had  not  long  to  wait  in  fear. 
When  Napoleon  stepped  into  the  hall,  an 
usher  with  blackened  face  strode  for- 
ward, and  swinging  wide  the  court  door 
and  beckoning  to  him  to  follow,  led  the 
way.  As  the  accused  set  his  foot  within 
the  court-room  there  was  a  sudden  blaze 
[97] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


of  light,  and  entering  from  the  opposite 
side  there  appeared  a  line  of  bearded 
men  wearing  wigs  and  black  gowns, 
and  stepping  to  the  measure  of  the 
"Dead  March,"  which  seemed  to 
come  from  nowhere  in  particular,  but 
which  instantly  fixed  the  pace  for  all 
alike. 

It  was  an  impressive  sight— the  pro- 
cession of  whites,  black-gowned,  on  one 
side,  the  black-faced,  white-robed,  on 
the  other;  the  funeral  music;  the  sol- 
emn tread. 

When  Rose  Ann  had  approached  the 
court-house,  her  one  thought  was  that 
she  would  sweep  the  crowd  with  her  eye 
until  she  should  find  Mart  Caruthers, 
and  she  would  communicate  with  him 
even  if  she  should  have  to  stand  up  and 
call  to  him  before  everybody.  But  she 
was  so  dazed  now  that  when  the  court 
was  seated  before  her  on  the  platform, 
[98] 


It  was  an  impressive  procession.'' 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


the  judge  in  his  chair,  she  had  forgotten 
all  about  Mart  and  everything  else. 

The  music  stopped  when  all  were 
seated,  but  in  a  moment  it  began  again, 
a  lively  air  this  time,  and  from  the  back 
of  the  room. 

Rose  Ann  would  not  have  forgotten 
her  manners,— church  and  court  man- 
ners are  much  the  same,— she  would 
not  have  forgotten  them  enough  to 
turn  and  look  over  her  shoulder,  but 
for  a  certain  swishing  sound  which  her 
keen  ear  detected  beneath  the  music  of 
the  strings.  It  was  as  the  rustle  of 
silken  skirts,  which  no  doubt  it  was,  for 
while  the  band  played,  masked  specta- 
tors, draped  in  sheets,  were  slipping 
stealthily,  specter-like  and  grim,  up 
into  the  gallery  seats,  curious  members 
of  the  families  of  the  regulators,  prob- 
ably, out  to  see  the  fun. 

Rose  Ann  was  quick-witted,  and  she 
[101] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


nudged  granny  at  her  side,  and  the  two 
glanced  from  the  maskers  in  the  gallery 
to  the  judge  and  jury  on  the  bench,  and 
they  both  knew  suddenly  that  the  whole 
thing  was  a  masquerade.  Up  to  this 
they  had  artlessly  accepted  the  court, 
on  its  appearance,  as  venerable  men  and 
strangers. 

Now  she  studied  them  suspiciously, 
one  by  one,  measuring  each  with  her 
eye  for  Mart  Caruthers.  Then  suddenly 
she  began  to  tremble  and  to  turn  cold. 
Mart  was  not  there,  but  in  the  judge's 
seat  sat  his  old  father,  Judge  Martin 
Caruthers,  ten  years  dead. 

Poor  Rose  Ann  had  been  under  a 
great  strain  for  two  days.  She  had  been 
living  very  much  upon  "evidence  of 
things  not  seen,"  getting  her  intima- 
tions in  "signs  and  wonders." 

Suddenly  recognizing  her  old  master, 
she  forgot  the  idea  of  the  masquerade, 
[102] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


and  the  specters  in  the  gallery  were 
genuine  spooks;  the  swishing  of  their 
garments  without  sound  of  footsteps 
was  unearthly. 

No  doubt  it  was  only  a  coincidence 
that  just  at  this  moment  the  light  was 
lowered,  or,  rather,  the  great  Brush 
light  in  the  ceiling  was  put  out.  It  was 
bad  for  the  eyes  and  even  worse  for  dis- 
guises. Then  the  music  ceased,  and  the 
judge  rose. 

Before  he  began  to  speak  Rose  Ann 
was  beginning  to  wonder  who  the 
other  risen  dead  might  be.  No  doubt 
they  were  contemporaries  of  her  old 
master,  probably  members  of  his  former 
court.  But  at  the  sound  of  his  voice 
she  knew  only  that  he  was  risen  from 
the  grave  to  bring  her  husband  to  judg- 
ment. 

She  thought  fast  as  she  listened,  and 
wondered  how  she  had  been  so  dull  as 
[103] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


not  to  have  suspected  the  mysterious 
verbiage  of  the  summons,  the  appoint- 
ment for  "  midnight,  high  moon."  Her 
thoughts  flew  so  swiftly  that  she  had 
trouble  to  keep  up  with  what  was  going 
on  before  her  eyes.  The  first  thing  to 
bring  her  to  herself  was  the  baby,  who 
suddenly  screamed  and  clung  to  his 
father's  neck. 

Then  she  realized  that  the  judge  had 
told  Napoleon  to  put  the  child  down,  and 
things  began  to  assume  natural  rela- 
tions. She  knew  that  a  point  had  been 
scored  for  the  prisoner.  She  quietly 
rose  and  offered  to  take  the  crying 
child,  but  it  only  made  matters  worse, 
and  in  the  end  the  baby  had  to  be  car- 
ried out.  When  it  was  gone,  the  next 
little  fellow  climbed  upon  his  father's 
lap,  and  the  performance  was  virtually 
repeated. 

When  order  was  finally  restored,  the 
[104] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


judge  rose,  and  addressing  the  prisoner, 
said: 

"Have  you  any  counsel,  sir?" 

The  man  did  not  answer.  No  doubt 
the  question  was  unexpected.  While 
he  hesitated,  Rose  Ann  held  up  her 
hand  and  asked  if  she  might  speak. 

Given  permission,  she  rose,  and  in  a 
voice  broken  with  feeling,  she  said: 
"  Ole  Marster,  ef  you  please,  sir,  we  done 
choosed  Marse  Mart  to  stan'  for  us,  ef 
he  's  present  in  de  co't,  ef  you  please, 
sir."  And  she  sat  down. 

This  was  terrible,  and  for  an  instant 
Martin  was  so  shaken  that  he  could  not 
find  voice.  He  immediately  saw,  how- 
ever, that,  unless  the  whole  proceeding 
should  be  a  fiasco,  he  must  change  the 
order  of  procedure,  and  quickly.  He 
was  a  thoughtful  fellow,  though,  and 
not  without  imagination,  and  it  was 
hard  for  him.  Knowing  and  under- 
[105] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


standing  the  woman's  mistake,  he  felt 
almost  as  if  he  were  indeed  speaking 
for  his  father,  and  he  wished  himself 
well  out  of  it.  But  he  could  not  "  back 
out"  now.  How  could  he,  and  his 
sweetheart  in  the  gallery? 

Instead  of  allowing  the  case  to  develop 
in  the  ordinary  process,  he  must  force 
the  issue.  To  do  this  in  a  mock  court, 
the  only  law  of  which  was  license  and 
its  limit  that  of  the  court's  wit,  was 
not  a  difficult  thing  when  once  realized. 

Waiving  the  woman's  inquiry,  he 
stepped  to  the  front,  and  began  his  ar- 
raignment, which  was  about  as  follows: 

"The  prisoner  who  stands  before  us 
to-night  is  no  stranger  to  this  court. 
On  the  contrary,  he  is  a  familiar  figure. 
Perhaps  if  I  were  to  ask  for  a  popular 
vote  as  to  the  best-dressed,  most  com- 
fortable, and  most  conspicuously  inde- 
pendent citizen  of  color  among  our  peo- 
[106] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


pie,  the  answer  would  be  unanimously: 
'Napoleon  -  of  -  the  -  plush  -  rocker.' 
[Laughter.] 

"If  I  were  to  ask  the  name  of  the 
most  industrious  and  hard-worked 
woman,  the  answer  would  be,  'Rose 
Ann,  wife  of  him-of-the-plush-rocker.' 
[Applause.] 

"If  I  were  asked  to  name  the  most 
appealing  household  among  our  colored 
population,  a  household  of  helpless 
children,  of ttimes  reduced  to  the  pitiful 
necessity  of  begging  their  bread,  I  could 
not  but  name  the  children  of  this  man, 
Napoleon-of-the-plush-rocker.  [Dis- 
tant laughter,  as  if  from  the  gallery.] 

"Now,  it  is  one  thing  to  be  a  peace- 
able citizen  and  another  to  be  a  useless 
one.  No  man  can  be  a  good  citizen  and 
a  bad  father,  and  so  I  do  declare  the 
prisoner,  Napoleon,  in  the  highest  sense, 
a  bad  father— a  father  whose  example 
[107] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


is  pernicious,  and  inasmuch  as  he  does 
not  support  the  woman  of  his  choice,  I 
do  hereby  denounce  him  as  a  bad  hus- 
band. So  here  we  have  that  dangerous 
combination,  a  bad  husband,  a  bad 
father,  a  bad  citizen." 

The  words  rang  out  with  force,  and 
when  he  paused  there  was  a  wail  from 
the  children  all  along  the  line,  and  Rose 
Ann  was  heard  to  exclaim  under  her 
breath,  "Speak  up  for  yo'  daddy,  chil- 
len." 

"Ain't  no  bad  daddy!" 

"Good  daddy!" 

"Loves  my  daddy!" 

"Nice  daddy!" 

So  the  wail  ran  until  stopped  by  a 
peremptory  "Silence!"  from  the  judge. 

"  Now,  in  the  name  of  common  decency 
and  justice  and  sympathy  and  right- 
mindedness,  I  charge  this  man  with 
what,  in  the  law,  we  are  bidden  to  call 
[108] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


'vagrancy,'  and  if  he  has  any  defense, 
the  court  would  be  glad  to  hear  it." 

When  the  judge  sat  down,  Rose  Ann 
rose  slowly. 

"Ef  you  please,  sir,"— she  spoke  in  a 
tone  of  awed  respect,— "ef  you  please, 
sir,  I  begs  to  speak." 

"You  have  the  court's  permission," 
said  the  judge. 

"Seein'  dat  we  ain't  got  nobody  to 
speak  for  us,"  she  began,  "I  stan's  up 
in  de  presence  o'  de  co't  an'  bef o'  Gord, 
an'  I  takes  on  myse'f  to  def en'  Napoleon 
ag'in'  de  charges  de  co't  done  brung 
ag'in'  'im.  I  say  dat  ef  he 's  a  bad  hus- 
ban',  his  wife  ought  to  know  it;  an'  I 
say  de  way  he  do  suits  me,  an'  ef  I  'm 
suited,  I  don't  see  who  's  got  a  right  to 
complain.  I  married  for  love,  an'  I  got 
it.  He  married  for  love  an'  labor,  an' 
he 's  got  it,  an'  we  bof  e  satisfied.  Ain't 
dat  so,  'Poleon?" 

7  [109] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


The  prisoner  bent  his  head.  While 
Rose  Ann  hesitated,  granny  thought  she 
had  done,  and  she  rose  nimbly. 

"I  stan'  witness  for  Br'er  Jackson," 
she  chirped  in  the  high  voice  of  age. 

"  Let  his  counsel  finish  first,"  said  the 
judge. 

"No;  age  befo'  beauty,"  said  Rose 
Ann,  nervously,  and  she  sat  down  amid 
the  cheers  of  the  court.  And  granny 
held  the  floor. 

"How  long  .have  you  known  the  ac- 
cused?" asked  Mart,  smiling. 

"I  been  knowed  him  sence  his 
mammy  was  a  baby,"  snapped  granny, 
teeth  against  nose-tip. 

"Well,"  laughed  Mart,  "we  can't  get 
back  of  that.  We  will  admit  your  testi- 
mony. Now,  will  you  please  tell  the 
court  what  you  know  of  the  accused 
—in  as  few  words  as  possible,  if  you 
please."  In  this,  as  in  all  other  testi- 

[no] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


mony,  there  were  men  writing  as  if 
taking  it  down. 

"  Yas,  sir.  Fust  an'  f o'most,  I  know 
'Poleon  don't  work  beca'se  he  can't  he'p 
hisse'f.  He  can't  work.  His  mammy 
—why,  you-all  chillen,  you  'member  his 
mammy,  ole  '  Hoodoo  Jane.'  Ef  you 
don't,  you  oughter.  But  Jane  warn't 
no  hoodoo.  She  was  a  hard  worker,  an' 
when  she  labored  so  hard  for  her  las' 
marster,  Eben  Dowds,  Jedge  Mo'house's 
Yankee  overseer,  wha'  bought  him  out, 
she  was  so  overdriv'  dat  she  swo'  dat 
de  chile  dat  was  gwine  come  to  her 
th'ough  all  dat  endurin'  labor  should  n't 
nuver  lay  a  hand  to  a  plow.  She 
marked  him  for  rest. 

"  I  ricollec'  same  as  ef  't  was  yister- 
day,  she  say  she  was  gwine  leave  one 
rockin'-cheer  nigger  to  tek  her  place 
when  she  died,  an'  she  done  it.  An'  I  'm 
her  witness  to-day,  befo'  Gord." 
[HI] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


This  outspoken  testimony  was  not 
without  effect,  as  the  stillness  of  the 
court  testified. 

"Is  that  all?" 

"No,  sir,  dat  ain't  all.  I  could  stan' 
heah  an'  talk  all  night  an'  not  tell  all  I 
know  'bout  'Poleon.  'Poleon's  daddy, 
he  nuver  worked.  He  was  ole  man 
Dzugloo.  Y'-all  ricollec'  ole  man 
Dzugloo  wha'  b'longed  to  de  Sandefurs, 
wha'  dared  de  overseer  to  tech  him,  an' 
tore  up  de  cowhide  in  his  face  lak  a  rag, 
an'  den  went  up  to  de  house  an'  called 
his  marster  out  an'  tol'  him  he  would  n't 
labor  hisse'f,  but  he  'd  git  mo'  work  out 
o'  any  gang  he  'd  put  him  over  'n  any- 
body else  could.  An'  his  marster  he  let 
him  try  it,  an'  he  kep'  orn  addin'  to  his 
gang  tel  he  overseed  de  whole  planta- 
tion. He  was  de  on'ies'  nigger  overseer 
dey  ever  had  on  dis  bayou.  You-all 
chillen,  you,  Marse  Mart  Caruthers,  an' 
[112] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


Marse  John  Henry,  an'  Marse  Tom  Dil- 
worth  "  (she  recklessly  named  the  young 
men  whom  she  had  recognized  through 
their  disguises),  "you-all  knows  all 
about  ole  man  Dzugloo.  He  was  a' 
Af ican  prince,  so  he  say;  an'  I  know 
time  he  died,  his  wife  she  buried  him  in 
his  feathers.  Well,  Napoleon  heah  he 's 
ole  Dzugloo's  chile  on  his  daddy's  side, 
an'  Hoodoo  Jane's  on  his  mammy's  side, 
an'  he  ain't  got  no  workin'-blood  in  him. 
Jane  could  work,  but  she  was  a  nachel 
shirker.  I  'm  a'  ole  'oman,  an'  I  know 
what 's  what,  an'  I  know  blood 's  blood. 
I  ain't  got  a  drop  o'  set-down-an'-tek-it- 
easy  blood  in  me.  I  boun'  to  keep  a- 
goin'.  I  kin  dance,  an'  I  kin  shout,  too, 
when  I  'm  happy,  but  I  can't  set  down 
lak  a'  idle-born  lady.  An'  Rose  Ann 
she  's  de  same  way.  But  'Poleon,  why, 
jes  look  at  him.  He  ain't  been  in  dis 
co't  a  half-hour,  sca'cely,  an'  see  how 
[113] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


he  got  hisse'f  spread  over  dat  arm- 
cheer." 

This  brought  down  the  house,  of 
course,— and,  by  the  way,  the  gallery 
audience  had  noiselessly  increased  after 
the  beginning  of  proceedings,— but  yet 
the  appeal  of  mother  and  children  over- 
worked and  neglected  was  greater  than 
any  sensational  speech. 

But  granny  had  not  yet  finished  her 
defense.  While  the  court  applauded 
her  last  sally  she  was  recruiting  her 
wits,  and  in  the  pause  which  followed 
she  began  again: 

"  Bef o'  I  sets  down  I  wants  to  say  dat 
eve'y  chile  in  dis  co't  is  a  witness  for 
Napoleon.  'T  ain't  no  use  for  you  to 
fetch  in  de  baby;  he  done  declared 
hisse'f.  But  dey  's  a  whole  litter  o' 
chillen  heah,— eve'y  one  de  spittin' 
image  of  his  daddy,— an'  ef  you  wants 
to  git  testimonious  answers  for  de 
[114] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


prisoner,  jes  ax  'em  any  little  inside 
questions  'bout  who  does  de  pacifyin' 
an'  cherishin'  o'  de  babies,  an'  see  what 
dey  say.  Ax  'em  who  washes  dey  little 
faces  eve'y  mornin'  an'  wrops  dey  hair 
an'  teaches  'em  'ligion  an'  manners. 
Dey  ain'  one  o'  dem  babies  but  knows 
dey  *  Now  I  lay  me,'  an'  dey  learned  it  at 
dey  daddy's  knees. 

"Who  learns  you  'ligion  an'  manners, 
chillen?  "  she  asked,  turning  to  the  line. 

"Daddy!"  cried  the  chorus. 

"That  will  do  now,  granny,"  said  the 
judge,  rising,  "and  unless  the  accused 
has  something  to  say  for  himself—" 

At  this  Rose  Ann  stood  up. 

"I  ain't  finished,  ef  you  please,  sir," 
she  said  slowly.  But  her  tone  was  not 
that  of  the  awed  woman  who  had  had 
the  floor  a  few  minutes  before.  The  old 
woman,  granny,  had  never  shared  her 
delusion  in  regard  to  the  court.  For  a 
[115] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


moment  only,  when  Rose  Ann  first 
spoke,  she  was  puzzled,  but  she  was  not 
deceived.  Before  Rose  Ann  had  spoken 
a  dozen  words  granny  had  recognized 
Mart  Caruthers,  and  while  the  case  had 
proceeded,  she  had  detected  the  others 
whose  names  she  had  fearlessly  called. 
And  this  it  was  which  had  jolted  Rose 
Ann  suddenly  into  a  knowledge  of  the 
truth.  The  frequent  titterings  in  the 
gallery  had  already  made  her  suspicious, 
and  now  when  she  rose  a  second  time, 
she  knew  well  to  whom  she  spoke. 

"Jedge,"  she  began,  "I  'm  mighty 
sorry  you  had  it  in  yo'  heart  to  call  my 
little  chillen  beggars.  We  been  born 
an'  riz  up  right  heah  wid  you-all,  an' 
when  I  sent  my  little  chillen  into  town 
to  ax  some  o'  de  ladies  wha'  been  know- 
in'  us  all  dey  lives  to  please  see  ef  dey 
could  n't  fin'  some  ole  'sorted-sized  shoes 
to  fit  'em,  I  was  n't  axin'  'em  to  put  dey 
[116] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


ban's  in  dey  pockets.  I  was  jes  be- 
questin'  'em  to  please  look  in  de  trash- 
barrel,  dat  's  all.  To  give  away  what 
you  done  a'ready  th'owed  away,  well,  of 
co'se  hit 's  charitable,  but  it  ain't  incon- 
veniencin'. 

"I  sho  is  hurt  to  de  co'e  to  have 
Marse  Mart  Caruthers,  whiskered  up  tel 
he  favored  his  pa  so  he  scared  me, 
stan'  up  in  open  c'ot  an'  call  me  or  mine 
beggars.  MyGord!  Beggars! 

"My  gran'daddy  worked  for  his  ole 
gran'pa,  Squire  Saunders,  f'om  de  time 
he  was  ten  yeahs  ole,  pickin'  cotton,  tel 
he  died,  nigh  on  to  a  hund'ed,  settin'  at 
de  lodge-gate,  wid  de  smoke-house  keys 
hangin'  to  his  belt.  When  de  levee 
broke,  many 's  de  time,  yeah  arter  yeah, 
he  worked  all  night.  Den,  on  top  o' 
dat,  my  mammy  an'  my  daddy  dey 
labored  for  Marse  Mart's  folks,  in  sea- 
son an'  out  o'  season.  My  mammy  she 
[117] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


nussed  Marse  Mart  hisse'f,  when  Missus 
had  de  miz'ry  in  her  breas'— nussed 
him  each  time  befo'  she  taken  her  own 
chile,  'ca'se  he  was  white  an'  her  mars- 
ter's  son,  an'  her  own  baby,  he  had  to 
wait,  same  as  a  calf  has  to  wait  an'  tek 
de  odd  chance.  Yas,  an'  I  often  heerd  my 
mammy  say  dat  Marse  Mart  was  sho  one 
invig'rous  chile  an'  a  greedy  nusser." 

This  was  frightful,  but  Mart  was  too 
much  of  a  man  to  stop  her.  The  good 
breeding  which  kept  silence  in  the  gal- 
lery was  worse  than  any  laughter  could 
have  been.  There  are  times  when  si- 
lence cuts  like  a  knife. 

"Yas,  sir,"  Rose  went  on,  "dat  was 
my  brother  Esau,  de  thin  little  one,  de 
runt.  He  allus  was  a  puny  chile,  an' 
my  mammy  she  fed  Mm  th'ough  'is 
teethin'  wid  cow's  milk  to  accommodate 
Marse  Mart  yonder,  stan'in'  befo'we-all 
to-night  in  jedgment,  lookin'  so  noble. 
[118] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


Esau  's  Marse  Mart's  coachman  now, 
an'  he 's  eatin'  his  leavin's  yit.  But  no- 
body could  n't  scald  'im  away,  an'  I  don' 
blame  'im.  A  gentleman's  leavin's  is 
better  'n  a  po'  man's  findin's. 

"An'  den,  to  come  along  down,  my 
daddy,  eve'ybody  knows  how  he  was  kilt 
follerin'  Ole  Marster  into  battle. 

"An'  now,  jedge,— Marse  Mart,— I 
ain't  got  no  desire  to  ac'  'bovish  an'  to 
step  out  o'  my  colored  place  an'  show 
no  disrespec's,  but  it  sho  do  look  to  me 
lak  dey  ought  to  be  enough  betwix'  me 
an'  my  folks  an'  you  an'  yo'  folks  to 
lemme  walk  in  yo'  ma's  back  gate  wid 
my  head  up  an'  say  to  yo'  ma,  *  Mis'  Em, 
honey,  ef  you  got  a  few  pairs  o'  ole  shoes 
or  stockin's  yo'  chillen  done  wo'e  out, 
'stid  o'  flingin'  'em  away,  please,  ma'am, 
pass  'em  on  to  my  little  crowd.'  Yas,  I 
claim  dat  I  ought  to  be  able  to  do  dat 
an'  not  called  no  beggar." 
[119] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


She  hesitated,  gathering  strength. 

"  So  I  say,  jedge,  ef  I  does  walk  in  de 
back  gate  an'  hoi'  out  my  han',  I  claims 
dat  I  got  some'h'n'  to  draw  on.  Ef  my 
gran'daddy  nuver  drawed  out  nothin' 
but  his  victuals  an'  clo'es,  even  for  de 
time  he  worked  all  night  on  de  river- 
bank  an'  waited  over-age  at  de  gate;  ef 
my  mammy  give  her  breas',  an'  ef  my 
daddy  faced  de  gunshot,  an'  all  dey 
drawed  out  was  dey  livin':  I  claims  dat 
dey  's  a  little  kindness  in  de  Caruthers' 
bank  for  me  an'  my  chillen  to-day. 

"I  ain't  axin'  for  money,  'ca'se  my 
black  people  ain't  paid  money.  Dey  paid 
in  life  an'  service,  an'  all  I  wants  to  draw 
is  'membrance.  Dat  's  all.  An'  I  gits 
it.  I  gits  it  f'om  ole  Mis'  Em,  yo'  ma. 

"Ole  shoes,  gethered  up,  an'  wo'e-out 
clo'es,  helt  up  to  de  light  an'  measured 
wid  her  eye  'g'ins'  de  size  o'  my  chillen, 
dat 's  'membrance. 

[120] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


"All  dat  white  pique  you  see  in  de 
co't  to-night  on  dis  little  row  o'  stair- 
step niggers,  hit 's  been  wo'e  out  in  yo' 
ma's  back  yard  befo'  it  was  passed  on 
to  my  tar-chillen. 

"  An'  Ole  Mis'  she  nuver  cuts  off  no 
buttons,  nuther. 

"No,  Marse  Mart.  I  pray  de  time 
won't  nuver  come  when  my  chillen  '11 
haf  to  walk  into  strange  back  yards  wid 
dey  ban's  out.  But  no  matter  how  I  en- 
ters Ole  Mis's  gate,  /  hoi's  my  head  up.'9 

If  Rose  Ann  had  been  the  center  of 
attraction  a  moment  before,  it  was 
Mart  now  who  was  in  the  eyes  of  the 
audience.  He  was  having  the  worst  of 
it,  surely,  and  it  was  interesting  to  see 
how  he  would  come  out. 

Before  rising— or,  rather,  as  he  did 

so— he  turned  and  quickly  removed  the 

long  white  beard  which  had  been  his 

disguise.     His  face  was  as  red  as  a 

[121] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


beet,  but  it  was  very  serious  when  he 
spoke: 

"Aunt  Rosie,"— his  voice  was  as  ten- 
der as  if  he  were  speaking  to  a  little 
child,—"  there  has  been  a  mistake  made, 
and  I  'm  sorry.  I  beg  your  pardon.  So 
far  as  we  are  concerned,  you  are  never 
a  beggar  at  our  door— you  or  your  chil- 
dren. In  my  resentment  of  your  hus- 
band's course  I  was  thinking  especially 
of  you,  but  I  failed  to  realize  your  feel- 
ings. It  was  stupid  of  me,  and  I  'm 
mighty  sorry. 

"But  I  do  here  and  now,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  this  court  and  of  those  here 
assembled,  arraign  your  husband  on 
the  charge  of  idleness,  which  in  our 
law  has  no  pleasanter  name  than  va- 
grancy. So  far  as  he  is  concerned,  his 
family  might  be  beggars.  Let  us  put 
it  that  way.  In  arresting  him  and 
bringing  him  to  justice,  my  colleagues 
[122] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


and  I  were  thinking  only  of  his  wife  and 
little  children.  If  he  were  starving 
alone,  through  his  laziness,  we  should 
not  be  apt  to  worry  much  over  it,  al- 
though we  might  feel  obliged  to  insist 
upon  his  earning  his  grub  in  the  work- 
house, even  then.  But  enough.  You 
are  working  too  hard,  though,  Aunt 
Rosie,  and  it  is  not  right." 

There  was  a  strange  expression  on 
her  dark  face  when  the  woman  rose  to 
answer  this,  and  her  voice  exhibited 
some  timidity,  overcome  with  an  effort. 

"I  have  knowed  some  mighty  fine 
gen'lemen,  Marse  Mart,"  she  began, 
"gen'lemen  wha'  lived  on  dey  wives' 
fortunes,  an'  driv'  fine  horses  an'  spo'ted 
roun'  wid  biggity  manners,  an'  nobody 
'rested  'em  or  called  'em  'vagrams'— 
but,  of  co'se,  dey  was  white." 

There  was  a  laugh  at  this,  which  was 
not  a  barbed  thrust,  as  it  was  aimed  at 
[123] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


no  one  present,  though  all  recalled  no- 
table instances  of  the  kind  in  the  com- 
munity. 

"No,  sir,"  the  wife  continued;  "my 
ole  man  he  s'po'ts  his  family  jes  as  much 
as  most  o'  de  cooks'  husbands  does 
along  dis  bayou,  ef  I  ain't  mistooken. 
I  ain't  tellin'  no  tales  when  I  say  de 
moes'  mos'  of  'em  does  is  to  tote  home 
de  heavy  baskets  or  buckets  dey  wives 
packs  for  'em  in  de  kitchens  whar  dey 
works.  'Poleon  ain't  nuver  walked  in 
no  white  back  gate  'cep'n'  to  tek  home 
clo'es,  an'  he  goes  in  an'  comes  out  wid 
manners  an'  behavior.  An'  dat  money 
he  fetches  it  home  to  me.  He  nuver 
stops  to  match  nickels  wid  it  on  de 
roadside,  lak  some  of  his  criticizers 
does,  an'  he  nuver  swallers  a  nickel  in 
no  saloon,  nuther. 

"De  on'ies'  diff'ence  I  see  as  to 
workin'  is  dat  most  o'  de  men  loafs  in 
[124] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


workin'-clo'es,  an'  'Poleon,  he  ain't  dis- 
guised in  no  laborer's  dirt.  He  got  a 
wife  dat  keeps  him  clean  an'  sets  him 
up  in  a  cheer  dat  fits  his  comfort,  an' 
it 's  her  pleasure  to  do  it.  He  got  a 
passel  o'  chillen  dat  scrambles  to  see 
who  can  wait  on  him  fust,  an'  it 's  dey 
pleasure  to  do  it.  An'  for  him,  'twix'  de 
risin'  an'  de  settin'  suns,  dey 's  a  heap  o' 
lovable  services  he  performs  one  way 
an'  another  for  me  an'  de  chillen. 

"Yas,  sir,  life  is  pleasu'ble  to  we-all 
'ca'se  we  jes  nachelly  lives  in  love  an' 
trus'.  I  been  married  gwine  on  fo'teen 
yeahs,  an'  'Poleon  ain't  nuver  lied  to 
me,  an'  I  ain't  nuver  is  lied  to  him. 
We  don't  come  f'om  dat  sort  o'  stock, 
thank  Gord.  My  folks  is  been  gate- 
keepers an'  key-toters  f'om  'way  back,  an' 
/  ain't  afeard  to  look  nobody  in  deface." 

"It  seems  to  me,  Aunt  Rosie,"  Mart 
interrupted,  "that  perhaps  Napoleon 
[125] 


NAPOLEON  JACKSON 


would  like  to  say  a  word  in  his  own  de- 
fense." 

Turning  then  to  the  man,  "Suppose 
you  come  up,  Napoleon,  and  give  your 
good  wife  a  little  rest.  You  keep  her 
working  for  you;  don't  let  her  do  all  the 
talking  for  you,  too." 

As  Napoleon  rose  slowly,  he  added, 
"Speak  up,  now." 

The  black  man  bowed  courteously, 
in  some  embarrassment,  which  added 
.rather  than  detracted  from  his  appear- 
ance, as,  fanning  with  his  hat,  he  said 
slowly: 

"I-reelly,  Marse  Mart,  I  'm  'feard  I 
ain't  got  nothin'  to  say.  In  de  days 
gone  by,  I  often  'cused  myse'f  when  I  'd 
be  tekin'  it  easy  whilst  Rose  Ann  stood 
on  gyard,  but  arter  listenin'  to  her  an' 
granny,  what  dey  done  witnessed  for 
me  to-night,  I  think  maybe— I  ain't  sho, 
but  maybe  I  does  de  best  I  kin.  Ef  I 
[126] 


/  'm  'feard  I  ain't  got  nothin'  to  say.' 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


don't,  I  gwine  try  f'om  dis  time  for'rd. 
But  ef  I  fails,  won't  you  gemmen,  befo' 
you  gits  my  little  chillen  out  at  night 
ag'in,  please  look  a  little  close-ter,  an' 
mek  sho  you  treed  de  right  possum— 
mek  sho  dat  whilst  you  tryin'  to  tackle 
miz'ry  you  ain't  jes  pesterin'  happiness? 

"  I  done  walked  de  flo'  wid  dis  little 
one  asleep  on  de  bench  by  me  purty 
nigh  all  night,  two  nights  las'  week,  an' 
he  's  ap'  to  ketch  col'  in  de  night  air." 

"You  walked  him,  did  you?  I  am 
surprised  that  you  did  n't  work  your- 
self sick  with  so  much  exercise." 
[Laughter.] 

"  Dat  ain't  work,  Marse  Mart.  Dat 's 
my  pleasure." 

Perhaps  it  was  the  sound  of  his 
father's  voice  so  near  him  that  waked 
the  child,  who  sat  up  straight  and,  blink- 
ing at  the  light,  began  to  fret.  He  was 
a  handsome  little  fellow. 
[129] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


"Well,"  said  Mart,  "I  think  we  won't 
detain  you  any  longer.  The  boy  wants 
to  get  to  bed.  A  fine  little  chap  he  is, 
too.  What  do  you  call  him?" 

"Rose  Ann  she  named  him.  He 
named  for  yo'  pa,  Martin  Caruthers, 
but  we  jes  calls  him  '  Jedgie '  for  short." 

It  was  a  good  time  to  cut  short  the 
"proceedings,"  and  Martin,  addressing 
the  gallery,— at  least,  that  was  the  way 
it  seemed,— said  quietly,  "The  case  is 
dismissed." 

Napoleon  took  the  sleeping  child  in 
his  arms.  Rose  Ann  had  recovered  the 
baby,  which  had  been  sleeping  in  her 
lap  for  some  time.  Coddling  it  now 
while  she  shifted  her  position,  she  rose, 
and  standing  back  while  the  others 
passed  out,  followed,  as  she  had  come 
in,  with  granny. 

They  had  reached  the  door,  and  the 
"court  and  audience"  were  laughing 
[130] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


and  talking  within,  when  granny  sud- 
denly turned  back,  and  rapping  upon 
the  door  to  attract  attention,  said, 
curtsying  as  she  spoke: 

"Ax  yo'  pardon,  jedge,  but  who  won 
de  case,  please,  sir?  " 

For  answer  there  was  a  chorus: 

"Rose  Ann!" 

"Napoleon!" 

"You  did!" 

"  The  piccaninnies ! " 

"Dat  's  jes  my  'pinion!"  she  ex- 
claimed—an opinion  she  held  fast 
against  her  nose,  even  shaking  it  in  the 
face  of  the  court  for  a  moment  as  a  cat 
does  a  rat,  as,  with  a  mischievous 
curtsy,  she  ducked  out  the  door. 

She  left  the  court-room  in  an  uproar 
of  mirth  when  she  joined  her  party 
outside.  Rose  Ann  and  Napoleon,  al- 
though relieved  of  a  weighty  anxiety, 
had  not  much  to  say  as  they  walked 
[131] 


NAPOLEON   JACKSON 


along.  The  children  were  fretful,  and 
in  a  little  while  the  eldest  two  had  taken 
up  the  complaining  toddlers,  so  that 
granny  alone  was  unburdened,  and  she 
brought  up  the  rear  with  playful  jest 
and  satire  worthy  of  a  more  apprecia- 
tive audience. 

They  had  reached  the  edge  of  the  field 
when  the  baby  fretted,  and  Rose  Ann, 
to  soothe  him,  began  softly  to  sing: 

Oh,  heaben  's  mighty  nigh, — 

Yas,  nigh,  yas,  nigh,— 
Ef  you  got  a>  eye  for  visions 

In  de  sky,  in  de  sky, 
Ef  you  got  a'  eye  for  visions  o'  de  glo-ry ! 

Singing  made  walking  easy,  fixing  the 
pace,  and  one  by  one  the  voices  fell  in, 
until,  when  the  road  turned  into  the 
narrow  wood,  the  swelling  notes  filled 
the  air,  even  taking  on  a  sort  of  tender 
accompaniment  as  they  rose  and  min- 
gled with  the  sighing  of  the  pines. 
[132] 


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